


With Me

by OccultChiffon



Category: Bugsnax (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Karaoke, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Post-Canon, Rarepair, Song Lyrics, but not a song fic, it's about the yearning, sometimes two characters just need to smooch, sometimes you need to write a fic for your niche ship, there is one original song in chapter 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:36:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29821590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccultChiffon/pseuds/OccultChiffon
Summary: About a year after the events of the game, two grumpuses are at a standstill. One is chasing a muse, the other is chasing something different. Eventual adult scenes. Complete.
Relationships: Cromdo Face/Wiggle Wigglebottom, Filbo Fiddlepie/The Journalist, Snorpy Fizzlebean/Chandlo Funkbun
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37





	1. Success

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first fic for this incredibly niche ship. Don't knock it 'till you've tried it. Enjoy.
> 
> Don't own any of the song lyrics used, with the exception of one original song in chapter 4. It's karaoke, what did you expect?

“Who ordered the Snax on the Beach?” Cromdo shouted over the brouhaha of the bar, placing the pink and yellow drink on the table to slide it in a showoffish way towards Beffica, who accepted it graciously.

“Think you’ll attract the wrong attention, naming drinks after snax?” she asked him over the music. Cromdo wrinkled his nose. There was the possibility. Then again nobody knew what bugsnax were, so most of the grumps that came thought it was entirely gibberish. 

“As long as some regular keeps her mouth shut, I should be fine, who’s gonna know?” he said, slinging a cloth over his shoulder. He never understood why some grumps complained about bartending. He thought it was easy work and even easier money. Of course, it was easier when it was by choice, in his own establishment, and he could stop whenever he wanted to pick up the mic and sing his little heart out. Which he decided he would do just then, because serving Beffica always left him a little wound up. In spite of such snafus, he had to admire the way the old place had come together into a veritable palace of corny music and jocularity. He had a good thing going.

…Then she walked back into his life.

It hadn’t been the first time he’d seen Wiggle since Snaktooth. They all kept up with one another, after all, some more than others. Cromdo was one of those ‘others’. After his near death experience on the island, he decided that he was getting too old to fuck around with his life, and for once, did what he wanted to. He took all the money he had saved- a modest sum, not enough to pay child support but enough to buy out a shitty building in downtown New Grump- and did just that with it. 

It was going to take a bit of love, but for the first time in a long time, Cromdo felt optimistic. He even set out to clean the dilapidated building up all on his own before his back gave out on him, and he realized he was going to need assistance. Thankfully, he had twelve friends who were actually willing to lend a helping paw in between campaigning for Filbo’s run for mayor. Mayor- he could hardly believe it when the grumpus said so at one of their little get togethers. The same night he proposed to the Journalist, actually. It was the only thing that topped his campaign announcement, and it only elevated the night further when Buddy said yes. 

Twelve friends was more than Cromdo had ever in his life, even if it seemed at the time it had only been eleven.

She had not made the party. She was off gallivanting on her comeback tour across the east coast, culminating in a fiery, banjo-fueled cacophony that took the country by storm. Even if she mostly played remixes of her old hits-her one hit, actually- and collaborations, grumps seemed impressed with her moxie. Sadly, _An Ode to Gramble_ was a bit of a flop, and she did have to stop playing it when the actual Gramble asked her to, but that was the music business, baby.

Since then he’d only seen her in person twice. Once was at the celebration party for when he won the election, the other was at Buddy and Filbo’s wedding. By then, the bar was almost completely up and running, and Filbo had suggested they have the reception there- but Cromdo had declined out of his newly found pride.

“It’s not ready,” he’d said to Filbo after the election results had been announced and he was ready deep into the celebratory champagne. “I want it to be ready before we host a big shindig.”

“It’s going to be wild, I can tell,” Filbo said, pattering his paws on the table at the restaurant they did have the reception at. “I’m so excited for you, Cromdo, you have no idea! It’s just… really great to see everyone finally getting to live their dreams. I mean, I just wish, you know…”

“We all wish Liz and Egg were here, kiddo,” Cromdo replied. “They’d have loved to see this.”

“When we can get a party together we can go back and rescue them… long as they’re not, you know, still monsters.”

“Shh! You want people knowing about that? After all we did?” He hissed. Filbo chuckled nervously and looked around.

“Sorry, I think I drank a little too much. Don’t tell Buddy.”

“Already keeping secrets from your spouse, eh? You’re good at this marriage thing already.” Cromdo was, of course, joking, but stopped mid-drink as he saw Filbo’s horrified expression. “It was- it was a joke, kid. Calm down. Tell me about your mayoral duties.”

That seemed to calm him down, and he’d begun to tell him all about bureaucracy and the like (things Cromdo had long since stopped caring about years ago) when an orange paw landed on his shoulder and gave it a good natured, adoring shake.

“Cromdo and Filbo! Two of my most favorite people! How are you doing, darlings?”

The red grumpus almost spit out his cocktail at Wiggle’s sudden arrival. Truthfully he hadn’t expected her to acknowledge them. She’d managed to slip into the wedding unnoticed by the paparazzi, but at the reception she had not been so lucky. The only thing keeping them at bay was Filbo’s security guards (and inexplicably, one or two of Snorpy’s security traps, which he had placed at approximately six in the morning when he had cased the place for potential Grumpinati activity), and it seemed to do the job alright. Yet, there was still the occasional photo flash through a window, and Wiggle brought up her boa (she had worn a blue one, to match the wedding’s colour scheme) to shield her face with a huff.

Filbo was unbothered, or perhaps distracted. “Wiggle!” He exclaimed, “I haven’t seen you since the inauguration! How’s the tour been?”

“Oh, it’s over, darling, came to an end just recently,” she said, sliding up onto a seat between Filbo and Cromdo. She was wearing a silver, sparkly dress that ended about mid-calf, and for the first time since he’d met Wiggle on the expedition, he felt a little nervous. Which was ridiculous, it was only a dress. Then again, this was his third martini. He didn’t get to indulge often, and this was a special occasion. He was going to be a hedonist. 

He suspected Wiggle would approve. Not that he cared what anyone thought about him. 

“Frankly I’m glad,” she said with a sigh. “I can finally write some new material.”

“Sorry about Ode to Gramble,” Filbo said apologetically. “Kind of rough that it led to your break up, huh?" 

That break up had made news all over the country. Wiggle Wigglebottom breaking up with her mystery paramour just months after the release of her first new song in years. Cromdo, privately, knew it wouldn’t last. Gramble was nice, but he didn’t have it in him for the life of a star’s partner, and when Cromdo saw him after the news hit Grumpter, he had to admit he looked a lot happier.

"It was just too much,” he’d said to Cromdo while he helped him clean up the bar, and build some stools. “All that publicity and paparazzi and secondhand fame… I never asked for it, you know? I just hope everything turns out okay for her.”

_You have no idea what you turned down_ , was what Cromdo wanted to say, _you little moron._

But he didn’t say that, because he was such a good friend.

“Oh, Gramble and I are still on good terms,” she said, motioning for the bartender to give her something. “And if anything good came out of that mess it was the kick in the ass I needed to get back up on my feet and make something new… again!”

Wiggle laughed, accepting the fruity looking drink that Cromdo could have sworn he smelled the alcohol content from from where he was sitting, and took a long, deep sip. He nursed his own drink, listening to Filbo and Wiggle chatter on, before he silently made his move to slip away and make a scene out of adjusting his tie (one of his nicer ones, black with piano keys on it) while he crept off to smoke.

Cromdo had a love/hate relationship with smoking. He used to smoke when he was younger, but quit when his daughter was on the way. Then, after the divorce, he started again, heavily. When the expedition began he forced himself to quit, considering he doubted they’d discover tobacco growing on the island, and he’d given up hope shortly after they got there of finding a cigarette bugsnax.

Now, back on the mainland, he started again. It was a nasty habit, but he was a nasty grump, and right now instead of being inside he was struggling with his old plastic lighter in a dark, secluded side of the building, away from the prying eye of the paparazzo, and cussing up a storm under his breath. “Grumpin’ christ, come on…”

A flicker broke his attention, followed by a faint crackle, and he looked over- cigarette hanging limply in his mouth as he gazed up at Wiggle, who was using the cigar in her mouth to light a second one, the two tips just touching briefly, until light moved from one to the other in a delicate display. Cromdo watched helplessly, it was all he could think to do as she passed it to him, holding her own between her buck teeth to bite off the end and spit it into the darkness.

“Go on and take it, darling, it’s a celebration.”

He did grab it and spit out the lowly thing he had almost begun to smoke, bit off the end and inhaled deeply on the cigar. It was the best thing he had ever smoked in his life. Bold, and rich, not- he mused- unlike the lady who had offered it to him.

“Holy grump…” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

“Why’d you leave the bar?” Wiggle asked. “I was looking forward to talking with you.”

Cromdo felt his fur stand on end at the question, and shrugged. “No real reason, didn’t feel like playing third wheel to you and Filbo.”

“Darling,” Wiggle said with a smile, “don’t be so gauche.”

“Haha,” he replied, giving her a little smirk back. “So what do you wanna know, eh?”

“Oh… Filbo says the karaoke bar is coming along nicely,” she said with a hint of eagerness in her voice. “When’s that gonna be done?”

Cromdo blinked, and puffed out his chest. “Soon! Coming together more and more every day. Pretty soon grumps will be lining up to sing there. Then the money will start rolling in, and we can expand even! Add a second floor, even! It’s gonna be great!”

A laugh from her deflated him, and he looked at Wiggle as she chuckled with the cigar between her lips. “What? What?”

“Nothing, dear it’s just… I’ve known you for almost two years now and this is the happiest I’ve ever seen you. I like it a lot.”

Perhaps it was the drink ebbing and flowing through his system. Perhaps it was the nerves still buzzing within him from his escape attempt… but he could not help but feel an unmistakable warmth through his body that he figured he could only partially blame on himself. After all, she was right there. When was the last time he was complimented by a beautiful woman? 

“It’s a good look on you, darling.”

“Heh… i’ll remember that, then,” he mused, and inhaled deeply on the cigar. 

“…You know, Cromdo, the two of us? We’re like peas in a pod,” said Wiggle, smiling at him. “I can’t believe I never saw it on Snaktooth.”

“Is that so?” he replied. “What makes you say that?”

“A little bird told me you’re quite a fan of my hit, for one thing.” Cromdo could have choked, holding the cigar aloft- who told her that? “Sorry, darling, i’m afraid someone spilled the beans shortly after we got back to the mainland. Don’t be mad at them, they were just doing their job.”

“And that certain someone wouldn’t be a little purple menace, would it have been?” he huffed. Oh, he knew exactly who it was. They would have words when the party was over.

Wiggle just laughed. It was a bold laugh, that was decidedly unafraid of what people thought of it. It made that warmth travel through Cromdo again, and he decided- decidedly- to blame the drink this time. Still, he wouldn’t let it ruin such good company. “Don’t get too mad at Beffica, her intentions were good.”

“Her intentions are never good,” he mumbled, even as he leaned back against the building to puff on the cigar.

“Really?” she replied, gazing off into the distance with that wry little smile. “I thought they were, just this time.”

“You sound like someone who’s never been burned by Winklesnoot before.”

“Darling you have no idea.”

He was silent for a moment, before placing a hand on his hip and shrugging. “Probably our own faults. I’m crap at keeping secrets and apparently, so are you.”

There it was- another one of those bubbling laughs. Another burst of warmth within him. Wiggle reached up to grasp the cigar between her fingers, and drag it away from her mouth, holding the burning tip out to him, expectantly.

“To poor decision making.”

Cromdo stared at her, momentarily unsure of what to do before he blinked, and got the message. He chuckled, and took the cigar from between his lips to press it to hers. The burning tips met, and fizzled faintly, and when Cromdo would think back on this moment later that night, lying in bed alone in his ratty apartment not far from the bar that he had scrounged up the last of his cash to rent, he would realize with a start what it signified.

“To poor decision making.”

Wiggle put the cigar back in her mouth and chewed a little on the end, but Cromdo let his linger a bit in the air. This was… nice. Huh. He was about to say something else when another orange furred grumpus stuck their head out from the corner of the building, smiling at them.

“What are you two doing back here? You’re missing the party,” Buddy said, incredulous. Cromdo coughed, as if attempting to begin to explain his self-isolation before a paw landed on his shoulder and Wiggle gave him a little squeeze.

“Cromdo and I were just catching up, it’s been a bit, after all,” she said, and smiled down at him. Cromdo just nodded, before puffing himself back up again.

“No worries, Buddy,” he said, “we’re fine.”

“Well get your asses in here, we’re about to cut the cake!”

Wiggle brightened immediately, radiating like the sun, “you have NO idea how much i’ve been looking forward to that part of the party!” she turned to Cromdo, dropping the end of the cigar and putting it out with her food, which he found very impressive. “We artists have to watch our figures, most of the time. You better take me in through a secluded entrance, darling, I can’t be seen stuffing my maw with confections.”

Wiggle strode off ahead of them, past Buddy, who shook his head and looked over at Cromdo with a knowing little grin. “…What?” said the red furred grumpus, furrowing his brow. He could sense Buddy had something to say, but whatever it was he was keeping it tight between his teeth.

“You coming in? It’s chocolate cake with lemon frosting.”

“That sounds disgusting.”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, inhaling deeply on the cigar. “I”ll be there in a bit. Just… give me a minute.”

“Well don’t take too long, or Shellsy’s going to eat it all, you know how bad she is at impulse control.”

Buddy turned tail and left him standing there, and Cromdo was sure he was about to have a heart attack. What exactly had just happened? A good rapport? With a woman? He supposed it made sense. He wasn’t an island of a grump anymore. He had eleven good friends, now.

Twelve, he thought, looking down at the end of the cigar that threatened to fizzle between his fingers, twelve good friends. Even if she wasn’t always there, she was… his friend. That was all. He put the cigar out on the side of the building and adjusted his tie. It was time for another martini.

The cake turned out to be pretty good.

The problem was, it was another couple months before he saw Wiggle again. She had issued a statement about how she was going off on some retreat to try and find yet another muse, and Cromdo couldn’t help but notice how cyclical being a musician was. Always chasing something different. He supposed it was only natural- after all, we were all chasing something. When he threw the switch on the karaoke machine for the first time, and opened up his bar’s doors to the public, he had been a little concerned, in the back of his mind. Then, grumps began to come in, ones that surprised him. Everything from bohemian wellness aficionados to bored housewives to stressed out business grumps- everyone could appreciate the fine art of bad singing.

He had just taken the stage when the door opened, and he was just beginning to belt out one of those infernal remixes of _Do The Wiggle_ (the bossa nova version) when she appeared. Cromdo kept his eyes closed when he performed- it just helped him get into the moment, but a small commotion drew his glance towards the entrance, watching as Wiggle Wigglebottom made an entrance. The fur atop her head was coiffed and sticking up like a mohawk, similar to when she had eaten a cheepoof for the first time, and she was wearing a brown fur coat, not unlike the one he’d seen her wearing when she performed on tv- just less fancy. If she was attempting to blend in she was making a solid effort- she wasn’t wearing the boa, but the glasses were still a dead giveaway, pink and star shaped. Yet somehow, dressed down and down to earth, Cromdo felt his paws begin to shake a little, so much so was his distraction he almost missed his musical cue.

_“Not awake… not asleep…  
_ _Come on everybody, get up and Do The Wiggle with me-  
_ _Do The Wiggle,  
_ _Do The Wiggle,_  
_Do The Wiggle,  
_ _With me…”_


	2. Reunion

Most grumps knew better than to not applaud the owner of the place when he got done performing, even if it was a song they’d heard ten times already that week. Cromdo gave an extravagant bow, keeping his eyes peeled as he looked over the crowd, and almost dropping the mic when he saw Wiggle whispering something to Beffica, and Beffica whispering something back. **  
**

Wiggle giggled, and knowing it was from something out of Beffica’s mouth filled him with mortal dread. Quickly he stepped back down from the stage and emerged back behind the bar, which startled Wiggle a bit. He was small, and surprisingly fleet footed for his age. Nevertheless she placed a paw on her cheek with a grin.

“Not a bad performance, darling. I could feel your heart radiating with the very cosmos themselves, and not just because you were playing my song.”

Beffica stirred her drink idly with her straw, keeping it to herself how Cromdo seemed to turn an even darker shade of red at Wiggle’s praise. 

“Well, that is my favorite version,” he said eventually.

“Thank. _Grump_ ,” said Wiggle, placing her paws onto the bar top. “I’m so glad you didn’t say one of the B-sides.”

“Yeah, you really knocked it out of the park with that… uh… techno remix.”

“It’s called grumpstep,” Beffica chimed in. Wiggle ran a paw down her face.

“Not one of my best decisions, no.”

“Hey,” Cromdo gave a shrug, and a slick smile. Slick to him anyway. “Grumps who make bad decisions have to stick together.”

Beffica looked suitably puzzled, and that suited Cromdo just fine. Mostly because it made Wiggle smile, showing off her teeth in a way you could mistake for predatory, if you didn’t know her.

“Just give me something strong, I couldn’t tell you how long I’ll be in town and I’d like to have a good time before I do.”

“What, you’re not having a good time sober?” Cromdo asked, smirking as the vodka hit the rocks, and he slid it over to her. 

“There is not a single party that can’t be improved with a nice drink, Face,” she implored him, before taking a dainty sip. Cromdo leaned on the bar top towards her, suddenly curious.

“Awfully quiet night for a celebrity making an appearance,” he said. At that, Wiggle let out a tremendous sigh.

“It’s been months since the tour ended, and I think I’ve milked about as much out of _Do The Wiggle_ I possibly can. I have over thirty remixes of that song in over twenty four genres and twelve languages-”

“The Japanese version is cool,” Beffica chimed in between sips.

“Thank you darling, I like it too,” Wiggle acknowledged. “And if I have to sing it one more time I may just rip my tongue out.”

“I was gonna say, Gramble told me you were sick of that song,” Cromdo replied, mixing up a cocktail for some real sketchy looking grumpus who tipped well enough, and regularly. Funny thing was they claimed to be a lawyer.

“It keeps me comfortable while I work on new material, even if I can’t stand it,” she replied, swirling her drink a little. “Grumps like it, it’s considered a classic now. Still, if I had come here months ago this place would be positively swarmed with paparazzi, now it’s just kinda sad.”

“Hey yeah, why couldn’t you have come a few months ago? I could have used the publicity.”

The sheer bluntness of Cromdo’s attitude was enough to momentarily jolt Wiggle out of her ennui, and she laughed heartily. 

“Next time, I promise next time,” she replied. 

It hurt a little to promise something that might not come to pass, especially to Cromdo. Seemed like all of her efforts, no matter what she did, seemed to come up for naught. Even her inspiration from Snaxtooth seemed to fade away like a burnt out candle after her attempt at another hit. An Ode to Gramble really had potential, but the controversy it caused kept it under lock and key for good. Suddenly, it was back to struggling.

She reached up to shake out her hair, letting it sway a bit before smiling again. No point in getting hung up on it. She had come there for fun, and grump dammit she would have it. Wiggle ended up shooting back the drink quickly, and bristling faintly, her fur standing on end before sliding it back to Cromdo.

“Might as well top me off, darling. Gonna be a long night.”

“Remind me to get you some water later,” he said. “So you don’t hate yourself in the morning." 

Wiggle laughed, and through her second drink she kept glancing at the stage, watching various grumps take the stage and sing their hearts out- some pretty okay, most terrible. Cromdo had been the best by far. More and more sips later, she found herself drawn more and more up there, and Cromdo noticed her staring.

”…Why don’t you do it?“ He asked, leaning over to her again, shifting his eyes between her gaze and the stage. She turned back to Cromdo and laughed a little.

"Darling,” she said, “I’m not even sure what I’d sing, I mostly just came here to catch up and see how the place was going, you know?”

He gave her a look, a slow smile stretched over his face. “Wiggle Wigglebottom doesn’t want to sing? No, I refuse to believe that. It’s a karaoke bar, you came all the way here and you don’t even want to do one song? When did you lose your way?”

Wiggle and Beffica both stared at him, and for a moment, Cromdo realized he may have gone too far. He shrunk back, blushing profusely as the fur on his cheeks stood on end. Then, Wiggle snorted, and began to laugh, though he wasn’t sure if it was at him, or the situation.

It was probably at him.

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Face,” she finally said, wiping a tear from her eye. “Tell you what, give me one more hit of that good stuff, and I’ll sing your brains out.”

She slid her glass back over to Cromdo, and he wondered what she must have gone through to change her so much. He refilled it, and she took it to shoot it down with shocking elegance. “Alright, alright, let me just go pick a song…”

She slowly slipped off the stool to move towards the stage, and Cromdo was left staring at her as she did so, noticing her trademark wiggle as she moved. A short from across the bar made Cromdo jump, and he turned behind to find Beffica snickering at him.

“…What?” He asked. She rolled her eyes. “What?”

“Oh come on, Cromdo,” she said, waving her paw at him. “Since when were you two a thing?”

Crombo sputtered a little, placing down the bottle so he wouldn’t drop it, or shatter the neck with the sheer force of his grip in that moment. “Excuse me, what? We’re not!”

“Please, after all that flirting? Cut the grump shit.”

“We’re. _Not_. Winklesnoot,” he said again, giving her a short huff, “and don’t go posting that we are on any of your gossip rags.”

“You mean my Grumpter?” she said, and waved her paw dismissively. “Chill out, Cromdo, i’m on hiatus.”

On one paw, perhaps earlier in the bar’s conception, he would have killed to know what that meant. He was out of the loop with the newfangled social medias, and the only reason he even knew about the site was because Beffica offered to set one up for him and his bar. Then he found out it was also the place where she did her dirty work nowadays, and decided against it. So, on the other- more objectively correct paw- he shook his head and squinted at her in an accusatory way. Unfortunately this only seemed to spur her on.

“You two were flirting up a storm,” she repeated, matter-of-factly. “I never realized you could be so encouraging.”

“Yeah, well…” he murmured, picking up a glass to wipe it down. It kept him busy. “Doesn’t do good to see someone so stuck in the muck, you know? I know what that’s like.”

“You do, don’t you?” she replied, flashing back to their time on Snaktooth. On the stage, Wiggle was combing through the karaoke machine, looking at the music.

“We just heard _Do The Wiggle_!” heckled one grump, and Cromdo gave a grumble as he overheard it. Wiggle, on the other hand, slipped off her coat, and tossed it across the stage with a small smirk.

“That would be a problem, if my performance would be the case tonight,” she specified, and with a small smile the music began to play. A familiar tune filled the room, and she tapped her foot on the stage gently as she opened her mouth and belted it out.

_“Jonzie’s on a vacation far away… come around and talk it over. So many things that I wanna say…”_

She unmistakably looked up at Cromdo, who’s fur puffed up fluffy when she met his eyes.

_“You know I like my grumps a little bit older~”_

He nearly dropped the glass all over again as she sang through the song, stepping from one side of the stage to the other. She didn’t even need to look at the screen- she knew it by heart, after all, and Cromdo’s heart was bouncing all about in his chest, so much so that he doubled over a little, hoping to grump that Beffica…  
  
“Oh yeah, you two aren’t a thing at all.”  
  
Crap.

“We aren’t!” he cried, “we really aren’t! She’s… not my type.”

_“I just wanna use your love, tonight~”_

Beffica narrowed her eyes at him. Okay, so that was a blatant lie and she saw right through it. It didn’t matter. Something was going to throw her off the trail, sooner or later.

_“I don’t wanna lose your love, toniiight~”_

Cromdo was so busy arguing with Beffica, in fact, he hardly noticed that Wiggle was on the move, stepping off the stage and into the audience that parted like the sea in the face of her unmistakable showmanship. She stepped up onto one of the bar stools and hoisted herself up onto the bar table, laying down upon it like a conspicuously absent piano.

_“Try to stop my paws from shaking…  
_ _But something in my mind’s not making sense,  
_ _It’s been a while since we were all alone,  
_ _But I can’t hide the way I’m feeling~”_

Cromdo really did drop the glass then, and it shattered into pieces at his feet. He let out a cuss, bending over to pick it up before Wiggle lifted her legs and leaped up, landing on her feet at the hoot and roar of the partially drunk crowd.

_“I just want to use your love tonight,  
_ _I don’t want to lose your love tonight~”_

The red furred grumpus made himself busy picking up the glass, keeping his head down behind the bar so that no one would be able to see his flushed face. Grump dammit. Since when was he such a coward? He could just picture Beffica, smirking at him, enough that it made him let out a miffed grumble. When he emerged, still partially hidden, she was sitting on the bar top, and the song was coming to an end, and she held out the mic and unceremoniously dropped it. It was far enough from the speakers that it only made a little bit of feedback- not enough to be noticeable over the roar of the audience, so he took the opportunity to pour himself a drink, and knock it back, hoping to loosen himself up, just a bit more in the wake of his sudden nerves.

“OH, you were right, darling! I needed that. I needed to _siiiing_ something other than my own hit, just for a moment.”

“You mind being careful with the merchandise?” he said as he stepped around the bar to pick up the microphone, tapping it in his other palm gently. “These things are grumpin’ expensive.” 

Wiggle chuckled sympathetically. “I know. I’m sorry, dear.”

A different laugh transpired across the bar, and Beffica was sliding off of her stool, gesturing a paw at Cromdo offhandedly. “Well, I think i’ll leave the two of you alone for the night. Just put it on my tab, Cromdo.”

“You know the rules, Beff, your tab’s only good if you sing,” he said, pointing at her. She blew a piece of hair out of her face.

“I’ll sing next time, okay? Promise.”

“Yeah yeah, I know how much your promises are worth, Winklesnoot.”

Beffica placed a paw on her chest, “Cromdo, you wound me!” With another flip of her hair she turned and strode out of the bar, and Cromdo yelled to her-

“Hey wait, you’re not planning on driving anywhere, are ya!?” he shouted, and when silence answered him, he tossed a paw at her, letting out a frustrated “bah!”

Wiggle continued to watch the moment transpire with a smile, and instead of going behind the bar again, Cromdo pulled himself up onto a stool beside her. “Kids, huh?” he said, fiddling with his tie a moment. A gaudy one with polka dots, not unlike the eyeball one he wore all the time on Snaktooth. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em.”

“She takes after you,” Wiggle replied, and Cromdo snorted.

“Grump forbid,” he replied, sticking out his blue tongue in a disgusted motion. “I have a daughter, and i’ll be lucky if she never, ever turns out like that.”

“Cromdo!” Wiggle exclaimed, “I didn’t know you had a daughter!”

Oh shit. The word was out. He decided to play it off casually, shrugging at her. “What, you didn’t notice my dad tie back on the island?”

“I wondered about that, but I figured it was left over. You know, from a scheme.”

Ahh. Bullseye. She knew him too well. He laughed nervously. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t judge,” she replied, glancing off to the side a little, as not to worry him by giving him too much of an eyeful in a moment of weakness. “We all get up to some things we’d rather not say.” Her words stoked the curiosity in him, and he couldn’t help but wonder just what sort of shenanigans Wiggle Wigglebottom had gotten up to when she was younger. Granted she was still much younger than him, and still had plenty of time to get up to said things. He coughed a little.

“That was… really good,” he said, “you sing like that all the time?”

“Don’t you watch my concerts?” she asked, raising a brow with a smile, “or see any of my singing on Snaktooth?” 

“As a matter of fact, I didn’t,” he replied, resting his elbows back on the bar top. Wiggle looked genuinely wounded.

“I can’t believe that,” she said, shaking her head, “well, consider yourself privy tonight to a private show, even if it wasn’t one of my songs.”

“That’s perfect,” replied Cromdo. “I like The Grumpfield.”

As the crowd began to thin and time began to tick down, Wiggle and Cromdo continued their spirited talks. Wiggle brought up the tour, and what it was like making all of those remixes and handling all those collaborations, and Cromdo regaled her with tales of building the bar, and how well it went once things got full steam. In the end, it was just the two of them, nursing drinks and chatting, and Cromdo went to turn off the neon light that illuminated the big ‘OPEN’ sign, signifying the end of the night- or rather, the early next morning.

“So, uh…” he said, turning back from the door to face Wiggle as she downed the last of her drink, and stood to go retrieve her coat, still haphazardly forgotten on the stage. “When will I see you again?”  
  
She sighed a little, “oh darling, i’m not sure. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.”

“I thought you were done touring for a while?” he asked, vaguely disappointed. 

“Oh, I am, but the life of a star is always busy. I’ve got so much to do, trying to write…” she stepped close to the door, before turning to look back at the place. It needed to be cleaned, but Cromdo could do that in the morning. Alone. The thought made his nose wrinkle- Wiggle didn’t catch it. “This was very fun, though…”

“You can always take breaks from your busy schedule, eh? Come pal around with ol’ Cromdo now and again? Eh? Maybe tomorrow?” 

Wiggle smiled, “maybe.” A moment transpired between them as she placed a paw on the door, reluctantly. “You know, when I was younger I worked in a place like this.”

It made Cromdo do a double-take. “You? Worked in a karaoke bar?”

“Not a karaoke bar, but I was a bartender, before I got my start. I remember sending in my recordings to all the record labels, going indie, finally getting a gig… I stood up all hours of all nights writing songs, but in the end, the one that managed to make me a star was one I couldn’t even remember after I sang it in the recording studio.”  
  
She leaned up against the door, letting her glasses slide down the bridge of her nose. “I’d write all day and try to sleep, but during the night i’d be able to get creative. With my drinks, with my moves, with my music. I’d sing while I mixed, and I think that’s what helped me eventually become inspired enough to dream up Do The Wiggle, even if it was only in a barely lucid dream. It saved my ass, and my recording contract.”

“So what did you do?” asked Cromdo, hanging on her every word.

“What else?” she replied, “I quit that bar job and went full stardom. Still, I wouldn’t trade that experience for the world. It’s funny, you know, that you started a place like this. It’s got me all nostalgic. Maybe it’s a sign.”

“It’s a sign that I need to hire a janitor,” Cromdo said, cracking his back and kicking a red plastic cup away from him as he went to pick up a chair and set it upright at a table. “Cleaning this up is going to be a kick in the ass, tomorrow.” 

Wiggle snorted, laughter bubbling up as she watched him, and proceeded to go help him pick up some of the rubbish. Then, mid-way into picking up another downed cup, she paused, and lifted herself back up.

“Cromdo…” she said suddenly, “what if… I got a job? Here?”

“Yeah, right,” he said, loosening his tie. “That’s hilarious.”

“No, really,” she said, crossing the room to toss the trash into the garbage. “It’s an old feeling but a new experience. I haven’t done a normal job-job since I recorded Do The Wiggle. It might be just the jolt I need to make something new.”

Cromdo took pause, turning back to her with his mouth slightly agape. “Oh my grump, you’re serious. You… You can’t work here, what would the people think?”

“Since when do you care what people think?” she replied, placing her hands on her hips with a wry smile.

“I…” he paused, reaching up to smooth down his hair. It was starting to stick up. “I care what people think about you.”

“That’s sweet of you, Cromdo,” she replied, “but I really think this could be good for me. And for you, too. I know you think highly of yourself, but you can’t run this place alone. Look at you. Have you seen the bags under your eyes?”

“What? They’re not that bad!” he said, before rushing to the bar and picking up a cocktail shaker, looking at his reflection in the chrome metal. “…Okay they’re bad.”

“Besides, I see you still haven’t renovated that upstairs apartment.”

“It’s going to be another karaoke room, not an apartment,” he grumbled in reply, turning the shaker between his paws. “The place is doing well but I don’t have the funds yet to… do it.”

“Well, if it’s money you need, it’s money I might be able to… provide to you.”

“I don’t do charity anymore, Wiggle.”

“Not charity, darling,” she said, stepping beside him to place a paw on his shoulder again. “Let me turn it into an apartment and move in up there, just until I can get a new hit in the works. I’ll work the bar while I do, and once everything comes together for me, I’ll help you renovate the place into whatever you want. It’s a win-win situation for you, Cromdo.”

He was still fidgeting a little, glancing up at her. “You’d work here, for free?”

“Not for free, dear, you’d be paying me in inspiration!” she said, brightening, “I’ve tried damn near everything else, even stuffing my face with bugsnax and almost getting killed to try and write a good new song. Actually the almost getting killed worked, but i’d like to find a way to write that’s a little less. I don’t know, potentially lethal?”

“I dunno…” he said, tossing the shaker up and down. Wiggle clasped her paws together.

“Please? Just for a month, think of all the free publicity you’ll get. Wiggle Wigglebottom, working in your bar. It’s an opportunity that might only come once in a lifetime.”

She was right about that; the free publicity would help bring people in, and that wasn’t all. With her help, he could finally get around to renovating that damn place upstairs- turn it into a loft, like all the hip places had. He could even get a second bar going up there… but then he would definitely need to hire more help. Besides… having her around would mean being able to spend more time with someone who actually liked him. And someone that he…

“…Just a month, then,” he said, “you got a month to write yourself a new platinum record, got it?” Cromdo held out a paw to her like a gentleman- or perhaps a businessman. Definitely not some addle-paddled newbie who was making a decision on purely personal reasons. Wiggle squealed with delight, and clasped her paws around his to shake vigorously.

“Thank you, darling, thank you, thank you!” she exclaimed. “I’ll start moving my stuff tomorrow night, you won’t regret this!”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” he corrected. “We got company at night.”

“Shrewd talker,” Wiggle said, raising a brow with a cheeky grin. “I like that.”

He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake, but he realized with a jolt as he looked up into her grateful gaze, it was entirely impossible to say no to her. Crap. Not good.

Not good at all.


	3. Charged

The worst thing about living on Snaktooth was that it was difficult to keep track of the days. The sun rose and the sun set, but aside from that, the days of the week had been lost, and the days of the months were hardly any better. It was only by virtue of Lizbert’s uncanny ability to keep track of time that their internal clocks weren’t screwed up entirely, and how they had known they had been there for a year. So naturally, when she disappeared, it all went to pot. What Filbo believed had only been a day into his mayorship before the break up had really been more of a week, and what Cromdo had thought had been a week before he began to ‘salvage’ Lizbert and Eggabell’s stuff to sell to the other grumps had really been more of a day. 

“What the grump are you doing with that?” Beffica had asked him, only it didn’t look like Beffica in his dreams.

Cromdo stood there with the projector in his paws, staring at the amalgam of parts that had taken Beffica’s place. It reminded him of a grump in the throes of snakifiation, except… different. They stood up, taller than him- parts of Snorpy, Wambus and Beffica swiveling their eyes down to look at him in an accusatory way, and suddenly his bravado evaporated. He stepped backwards, trying to steal himself against the nightmare the island itself had conceived to no avail.

“G-Grump…” he murmured as it grew in size, pressing against the top of the hut, clutching the projector to his chest as he fled into the night. Grump bodies began to spill from the huts- he recognized Floofty and Gramble, and Triffany, crawling towards him, speaking in a combination of voices that was impossible to pick apart from one another. So he did what he was good at- he ran. He ran all the way out of Snaxburg, still clutching the projector. He was on the cusp of the Scorched Gorge, almost to safety when he heard a sound- no, not a sound- singing? He spun around, and there she was, plucking away at the banjo, her eyes hidden behind her pink glasses.

“ _WIGGLE_!” he cried, throwing the projector away from him and rushing forward, and she held out an arm to catch him against her while the things swiftly approached. It only lasted for a moment- or perhaps it lasted for days, with his face buried in her warm, inviting fur away from what the other members of their expedition had become without Liz.

“We gotta go, come on we gotta go!” He grasped her paws within his own, trying to yank her out of the Snaxburg limits with him, but she wouldn’t budge. She was humming, playing the banjo one-handedly. His brow furrowed in annoyance. 

“Don’t you get it, you feather-head, we’re gonna die!” he cried, but in spite of all his tugging and trying, her paw slipped away from his, and she turned to walk back into the terror that had befell Snaxburg with her head held high. 

_“WIGGLE COME BACK!”_ he positively exploded, his paw lingering in the heavy, oppressive air. _“COME BACK! I- I-!”_

Then he woke up. Not in the bed, but face down on the floor after having tumbled out of the bed.

Placing both paws to the side of him he lifted himself off the ground, grumbling and going to rub his face. Grump dammit, how long had he been lying there, wallowing in his nightmares? There was a brief moment of calm before the sound of mail hitting the floor broke him out of his reverie, dropped unceremoniously through the door slot. This wasn’t fair, here he was feeling like shit and he hadn’t even got himself drunk. Tipsy, sure, but he was Cromdo Face- he didn’t get hangovers.

The mail was unremarkable. Bills and nonsense, and he poured over it while eating his breakfast. There was only one thing that stood out, and it was a letter from his lawyer about child support payments. Cromdo grumbled and tossed it onto the table- seemed even happier than he’d ever been, his ex managed to find ways to wheedle her way back into his life every month. If it wasn’t for his daughter… who he wasn’t, by law, even allowed to see… he’d probably run away back to Snaktooth again.

Well. Maybe not there. Anywhere but there- but somewhere in international waters, where they would think he was dead, again. He’d ask Beffica.

Time passed, and he ended up getting all his affairs together and putting on a green tie with music notes on it and heading off towards the bar. Imagine his surprise, however, when he found a truck outside his domicile, and a pair of burly grumps moving furniture into it, all under the watchful instructions of Wiggle Wigglebottom. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and blinked again before just what was unfolded resonated with him, and he stormed forward irately.

“WIGGLE!” He shouted, “Just what the grump do you think you’re doing?!”

“Cromdo, darling!” She exclaimed, adjusting her pink, starry glasses. “I wasn’t expecting you so early!”

“Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah!” He shouted, momentarily caught in a loop as he tried to calm himself, watching the moving grumps take a nightstand up the stairs into the upper floor of the bar. “I leave you alone for a few hours and you turn my bar into a penthouse?!" 

"Oh Cromdo, it’s hardly what I’d call a penthouse!” She protested, “it’s only a few things! A bed and a table and some miscellaneous furniture, just what I need to write my hit and nothing more! You said I could live here for a month, if I recall.”

“But, but, but-” he stammered, slapping his forehead. He could feel himself going gray. “I didn’t mean today, I meant maybe tomorrow? Maybe even the next day? I don’t even have heat up there, yet!”

Infuriatingly cutely, Wiggle positively guffawed. “Is that all? Darling, you make it sound like it’s Alcatraz up there. I’ll pick up a space heater tomorrow.”

“Why don’t you get one today?” He grumbled, “you’re gonna be uncomfortable.”

A paw landed on the crown of his head, and his fur puffed up some. Grump dammit.

“It’s so sweet that you care so much,” she said, genuinely touched at his efforts. Cromdo blushed furiously, flexing his fingers into tight, embarrassed little fists. “But I’ll be fine. Really I will~”

He closed his eyes and sighed, “I can’t argue with you…”

“Because I’m so sweet?” She teased, grinning broadly.

“Because you’re impossible.”

“I’ll take it, darling!”

Cromdo sighed, and motioned for Wiggle to join him inside. She ended up running ahead up the stairs to look at what the room had become, and it was… well. She’d lived in worse. It was a little chilly, but that was nothing she couldn’t rectify. So Cromdo was a little bit of a control freak. She’d had managers who were less sweet to her. When she went downstairs he was sitting at the bar, rubbing his paw on his face.

“You’re gonna be up all night,” he pointed out, “you did get some rest, right?”

“Oh, I truly am sorry darling, I just couldn’t sleep a wink. I just had to get the place up and running so I could settle in, you know? Get those juices flowing.”

“You been up all day?”

“I slept a little!”

“Long as you can last the night on your feet.”

“By the way, darling, I’ve been thinking about the name of your bar…”

“What about it?”

“It’s kind of… interesting.”

“What’s wrong with _The Cromdominium_?”

“Just seems a bit self-aggrandizing, don’t you think?”

“Oh wow, sorry, miss Wiggle Wigglebottom, artist behind the hit song _Do the Wiggle_.”

“…Okay touche.”

“Anyway, time for your entrance exam.”

He motioned for Wiggle to step behind the bar, and she did so, before leaning her elbows on the top of the bar to smile at him roguishly. Cromdo let out a huff. He would not be persuaded by the cuteness (at least not anymore- today), he had a business to take care of.

“What do you know how to make?”

“Darling what DON’T I know how to make? I’ve gone to parties all over the world. If you’re looking for someone who knows how to make the most popular drinks I’m your grump!”

“Drinking it ain’t the same as mixing it, Wigglebottom. Show me what you know.”

“Isn’t drinking right before we open a little irresponsible?”

“My bar, my rules. Wow me, Wiggle.” Well. If it was a wow he wanted, she would just have to make up for lost time.

Cromdo watched her move with experience, each motion showy and elegant, not unlike her stage presence the night prior. She fished things out from under the bar he hadn’t known he even stocked like some kind of magician, and dropped everything into a silver shaker to deliver a pulse-pounding exhibition of tossing and catching the damn thing like a seasoned pro. Like a necromancer, bringing him back to life.

She poured it all over rocks, and skewered a piece of candied ginger onto one of those little plastic swords Cromdo had made sure to order specially for the bar, and slid it over to him. Her fur was a little askew, sticking up faintly, but she was beaming at him expectantly, and slowly- and faintly reverently- Cromdo took the glass to knock back the drink. It made his fur stand up, a shiver ran through him, and the unmistakable flood of cold scotch and ginger was enough to make his toes curl.

It was the most delicious thing he had ever drank in his entire life. Just like that, he could feel himself falling in love.

“Grumpin’ Christ… what do you call this? The Wigglebottom?” He said, wagering a guess. Wiggle laughed.

“It’s called Penicillin, though I have to thank you for assuming I created it.”

“It’s definitely the _Do The Wiggle_ of drinks I’ve had.”

Wiggle sighed, seeming defeated at his words, “so… samey and trite?”

“Absolutely amazing.”

Wiggle blinked at him, flattening her paw on the bar top, her blue eyes meeting his. Without her star-shaped glasses, Wiggle looked like any old grumpus he could have hired- in theory. In theory she should have looked normal, but she carried an unmistakable radiance with her that made it feel like he was having palpitations. 

“Thank you, Cromdo, that’s sweet of you,” she said finally, giving him a small smile. “Are you alright?”

His fur was standing on end. Grump dammit.

“Fine, I’m fine,” he grumbled, averting his gaze reluctantly. “It’s fine. Show me something else.”

She made him a number of cocktails. Everything from things he’d tried and made before (Old Fashioned, Mojito, Sidecar…) to things he had never even heard existed (Zombie, Mind Eraser, Corpse Reviver… good grump, who named these things?). Cromdo could feel his sobriety slipping away from him as he kept sipping, against all his better judgement- there was just something thrilling and genuinely pleasurable about having the drinks made for him, for once, and by a beautiful woman, of all grumps. Wiggle herself clearly was having the time of her life, making a vibrant little display of every drink until the bar top was littered with half-full glasses and Cromdo threatened to hit the floor…

“This next one is called a Gramble…” she said, “at least it would be, but I’m not sure you have blackberry liquor… you need to stock that, it’s a real popular drink among younger folks with new money…”

“Bramble.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s called a Bramble,” said Cromdo, rubbing his face and pinching the bridge of his nose, Not in annoyance, just out of a terrible desire to stay awake.

“That’s what I said.”

“You called it a Gramble.”

Wiggle stared at him, holding aloft a bottle of gin in one paw and a fresh lemon in the other as realization dawned. Slowly she put them both down and let out a little sigh. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?”

Cromdo suddenly felt like a heel. They had been having a nice time, boozing and laughing and showing off, and now he had just embarrassed her apropos of nothing. As Beffica would have said, not cool. “Hey, it’s fine,” he said, slapping the bar top, “just don’t call it that in front of any customers. We don’t want ‘em getting confused, is all.”

“Right…” Wiggle placed the bottle down, smiling a little at Cromdo as she tossed the lemon up and down thoughtfully. 

“…Filbo said you two left on good terms. Is everything… really okay?” Hell, that was forward. Who asked that? Who had the stones to ask such a thing? Oh grump. Apparently he did, with several drinks in him. A moment transpired between them, and Cromdo swiveled on the stool, about to jump off.

“WOW, look at the grumpin’ time! Suns gonna be going down soon and we gotta- gotta prepare for the dusk crowd, you and me-”

“Cromdo, it’s okay,” her words halted him, though he still had his back to her, one paw clinging to the table and unwilling to relinquish its grasp until Wiggle spoke once more. “Gramble and I are fine. We’re still friends. It’s not his fault I messed everything up… Grumps make mistakes.”

The clinking of glasses and bottles made him turn back to her, watching as she cleaned up, and wiped down the bar top until it shined. As Cromdo watched, he felt… old. Older than he should have. It wasn’t a foreign feeling to him- many times he would look in the mirror and feel like he’d aged ten more years in the span of a single day, but like this… with his paw clasped onto the edge of the bar, he felt positively ancient. Exhausted.

“At least it was nice while it lasted.”

“If it were literally any other grumpus, that song would have been a hit, okay, and you know it,” Cromdo said suddenly, facing her and pointing at her in a forward way he may not have done if he was sober. “It’s not your fault Gramble was a grumpin’ coward.”

“Darling!” Wiggle exclaimed, “he was _not_!”

“Any other grump would have been thrilled to have had an artist of your calibur write an ode to them, literally any other grumpus,” he continued, “if that were me, I would have- I would have-”

He was breathing deeply, as if he had been running a marathon instead of sitting there drinking, clutching the edge of the bar so tightly he thought he might leave claw marks in the wood. Wiggle reached over, and placed a tentative paw on his shoulder, and he swayed a bit.

“Oh dear,” she said, “you’re very drunk.”  
  
“I’m fine, just, just let me finish-”

“Let’s get you somewhere you can rest, before you say something you regret,” she said, stepping out from around the bar to grasp one of Cromdo’s arms, and sling it over her shoulder. It was a little difficult, trying to help haul around the smaller grumpus, but she imagined he’d want to keep at least some dignity, so she didn’t pick him up. Even if it would have been easier.

“I would have loved it if someone wrote that song about me.”

“Easy, darling.”

_“An Ode to Cromdo…”_

Wiggle brought him all the way upstairs, where her rudimentary bedroom had been set up earlier that day. Slowly she sat him down on the bed, and if she were literally any other grump, this might have been awkward- but she was a star. She was no stranger to drunk grumps falling asleep in her bed, and at least this was one that she knew. “Get some rest now, okay?”

“Wait- wait-” he said, reaching up and grabbing her wrist with his paw. “We’re opening soon, I can’t leave you by yourself…”

She turned towards him to pat his paw with her own reassuringly, and slipped away from him to vanish down the stairs. There was that downside again- no bathroom. She returned with a glass of water, and made him take it, her paw on his, closing his fingers around it. “Drink it,” she instructed, “do it now.”

It seemed the small command was enough to knock a bit of sense into him as he drank deeply, and though he was still thirsty, he handed it back to her, and with a hiccup, he flopped over onto the pillow and began to snore stupidly. She was actually somewhat impressed, that a grump his size could generate a noise that hideous. She would simply have to turn the music up extra loud, hopefully to drown him out. Wiggle knew she had to go downstairs and prepare in earnest, especially now that she would be on her own (she should have known letting Cromdo talk her into making him drinks was a bad idea, but dammit, she had been having fun), but she lingered all the same, watching him. All flushed, with his fur sticking up and his brow furrowed as if he had been plunged into uneasy dreams almost immediately, she felt a pang of sympathy go out to him before reaching down, as if to touch him, before pulling back, and turning to busy herself downstairs. It was going to be a long night.

Dreams when you were drunk were the most tumultuous of all for Cromdo. Nothing made sense, even worse than dreams usually did- but this time they swirled in a nauseating kaleidoscope of colour and sound, beckoning and repelling him all at once. One by one colours formed a skeleton, then they formed a soul, and then flesh and fur, until a long, orange-furred arm was reaching out to him, paw outstretched. The other was clutching a banjo. 

Cromdo reached out and grabbed it with both paws, as if he would fall away into the cacophonous abyss if he turned away for only a moment, and when he feet touched the ground, suddenly he was on a sandy beach, and Wiggle was before him, her body swaying back and forth as she played her instrument. She was singing, but it all came out as gibberish to him, he could only make out one word, and it startled him so badly he looked down at himself. His paws were bright pink, and he was wearing a teal sweater that he clutched at fervently. All around him he could hear the chattering of strabbys and peelbugs, and he thought he was going insane.

“Gramble? Are you alright, darling?”

His eyes flew open, but he still wasn’t home. He wasn’t in the upstairs of the bar, either. It was night, he was in the Scorched Gorge. He was alone, and cold- but he looked down and- yes. He was Cromdo Face. What day was it? He had no idea- was Wiggle still around? Did that even matter? Yes. Of course it did. If she was around, things would be okay. His eyes screwed shut again. He opened them. His feet were big bopsicles. He was back in Snaxburg, far away from everyone else- an island unto himself. The radio was playing. There was a banjo playing behind him. She was close- he could feel it. She was so close. All he had to turn around and he could touch her. All he wanted to do was turn around and touch her… 

He turned around. She was there, bobbing her hips back and forth. He reached out, and suddenly they were the only two grumps on Snaktooth. Maybe the entire world. It was just them, and the music.

_“Not awake… not asleep…”_

Cromdo woke up with a start, staring at the ceiling. He was sprawled out on the bed, a line of drool clinging to the fur around his mouth while he tried to parse exactly what had just happened. His head was pounding, not painfully, thank grump, but it was as if someone had been pressing on it. He felt barely lucid, only just enough to flash back to this afternoon. He had been- yes- letting Wiggle show him what she knew, if she was going to be his bartender, and he got caught up sampling every drink like a dumbass.

“Aw, grump…” he grumbled, hoping he hadn’t said anything idiotic while he was blitzed. Then, it hit him like a truck. He absolutely had. Fuck, what was it exactly he had said…? Wait. Did Wiggle have a clock?

He ended up jumping up, adjusting his tie haphazardly before making his way downstairs, hoping he looked at least somewhat presentable. It couldn’t have been that late, it couldn’t have been. He’d kick himself later for letting himself get fucked enough to leave Wiggle out on her own. He expected the place to be a nightmare when he arrived, but the fact of the matter was it… looked rather normal. Grumps were there, singing and making general fools of themselves, but the bar was packed, and there was Wiggle, tossing her shaker up into the air and making conversation as she skewered fruit and poured things from behind her back to the impressed cheers of the inebriated grumps. Cromdo rubbed his eyes, not quite believing what he was seeing. A paw reached up over the crowd and waved to him, which was easy when Wiggle was so tall, so he made his way over, muscling in through the gathering.  
  
“Outta the way, outta the way…” he mumbled under his breath, reaching back to try and coif his hair and smooth down his fur as he finally met her. Before he could speak she was already at work, placing down a mug, and filling it with black coffee before him. “…I don’t have a coffee maker.”

“I know,” she said, reaching up to smooth down her funky little mohawk, still resembling cheepoof hair. It was a good style, and she decided to stick with it. “That’s why I picked one up. I thought to myself, ‘you know, Wiggle, lots of grumps do a lot of drinking here, might as well have something here that can help them sober up, and a little something for the designated drivers’.”

“I mean-” Cromdo said, “we’ve got soda, and water, and soda water.” Still he sipped the coffee, noticing how it was good and strong, just how he liked it. A lucky guess, on Wiggle’s part. She still beamed at him. “It’s good coffee, though. Good idea.”

“I thought you’d like it,” she said, and reached up to adjust the little black bow tie she was wearing. It took until that moment for him to notice it.

“Where’d you get that?” he said, gesturing towards it, “it’s cute.”

“Thank you, darling!” she exclaimed, “I thought so too. That’s why I bought it. I figured, well, you’re always wearing a tie, if i’m going to be your employee, I thought i’d try and fit the dress code.”

“You’re really serious about this employee business,” he let slip before he could stop himself, and clenched his eyes shut. Christ, today he would not be winning any awards for keeping his grumpin’ mouth shut. Wiggle was in the midst of mixing a drink for another grump, and sliding it over to him when he said it, and she placed a paw on her hip.

“Of course I am!” she said, “you didn’t think that from just this afternoon?”

“I mean,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I knew you were serious, but…”

“But what?”

“Isn’t this sort of work, I dunno, beneath you now that you’re rich and famous?”

Wiggle pursed her lips and shook her head, and let out a faint chuckle. “Remember at Filbo’s wedding when I told you not to be so gauche? You’re doing it again.” She topped off his coffee, “i’m not doing this because I need to, i’m doing it because I want to. This place is a veritable well of inspiration ready to spring forth, like Athena from the forehead of Zeus. You don’t feel it?”

Cromdo shrugged, “not too well versed in mythology, sadly,” he said. “You feeling any of that inspiration yet, then?”

Wiggle blinked, and tapped her fingers on the top of the bar. “Not just yet, but it’s coming. I can sense it. It’s only a matter of time. Oh- by the way- I upgraded your karaoke box. Did you know the store across the street has a wifi hotspot? I downloaded some new songs.”

It took him a moment to figure out exactly what she was saying before a slow smirk spread over his face. “You’re stealing wifi from the acupuncture parlor across the street?”

“It’s not stealing if they don’t password protect it,” she pointed out. “Besides, I couldn’t believe you didn’t have the internet in this building before now. How did you get songs on the box?”

“It _came_ with those songs,” he said, glancing anywhere but at her. There he was, feeling old again. Luckily, Wiggle didn’t seem to notice the same way he did. She just laughed a little. “I can’t say i’m not impressed, though. Here I was, thinking you didn’t have a bad bone in your body. What’ll we do if they find out?”

“I’m sure we’re not the first,” she replied, and winked conspicuously towards the crowd, “and they won’t, as long as _nobody says anything_ , right?”

Her audience, which at this point was larger than the one of the grumps trying to sing _I Love Rock And Roll_ on the stage, collectively snickered. Some of them zipped their lips cheekily, and Cromdo had to admit, it was somewhat impressive. 

“Well don’t get too cocky,” he said eventually as he sipped his coffee. “I’m allergic to jail time.”

“You know, if you’re feeling tense, we can always take a break. Go sing something,” said Wiggle. Half way to another sip he paused, looking over at her with a small blush.

“…We?”

“We.”

“I don’t speak french.”

It was enough to get another laugh out of Wiggle, even if it wasn’t one of his smoothest jokes. Luckily it was a karaoke bar, not a comedy club. “We’ll do one together. Just you, and me, and the lights of the stage. What do you say?”

“I… er…” his blush grew darker as Wiggle’s smile grew broader, and the fur on his cheeks puffed up while he busied himself adjusting his tie. It was still askew from sleeping in it. “One of us really should stay and watch the bar, it’s packed tonight.”

Wiggle let out an exaggerated sigh, and several of the grumps at the bar followed suit with exasperated noises at Cromdo’s weak excuse. “You sang last night when you were all by yourself here! I’m starting to think you just don’t want to sing with me.”

“No!” He said quickly, holding up his paws, “it’s not that, singing with you would be an honor!”

“Then why caaaaaaan’t we?” She said, in her own sing-songy way, flopping against the bar dramatically. The crowd around the bar started to heckle Cromdo, a couple paws landing on his shoulders to give him a small shake.

“Come on, Face, don’t make her beg!” Said one of his regulars. It seemed no matter that he did, he was caught between a rock and a hard place. It just so happened the rock was several rowdy grumps, and the hard place was very attractive. 

Quickly he shot back his mug of coffee, the heat and bitterness making him shiver from his head to his toes, before he stood up and smirked, finally rising to her bait. “Alright, Wigglebottom, let’s do it. But you owe me for this.”

“I already work for free,” she laughed, placing her paws on the bar top and vaulting over it bodily, making the crowd cheer as she landed at Cromdo’s feet. “What more do you want?”

He stammered a little, but she grabbed his paw without a second thought and dragged him along, all the way up the stage where she tossed him a mic, grabbed a second one, and began to comb through the newly added songs. The audience was alight with drunken adoration in that moment, and for the first time singing in front of the baying crowd, Cromdo felt… a little nervous. 

It was all Wiggle’s fault. Her fire was infectious, but if he wasn’t careful it would consume him. The question was, what if that was what he wanted the whole time? Oh grump- and he couldn’t even be mad about it. She let out a squeal of delight suddenly, and slammed her paw down onto the play button, raucous music and lyrics beginning to flash up on the wall behind them. Cromdo’s eyes widened as they fell onto the box, lyrics passing over the screen. Wiggle inhaled deeply, belting it out:

_“Step inside,  
Walk this way,  
You and me babe,  
Hey, hey!”_

The guitar was as contagious as Wiggle herself, and she thrust her hips to the side to bump him in the side expectantly. So this was going to be her game. Well, two could play at it. He smirked wickedly, turning towards her and continuing: 

_“Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on,  
Livin’ like a lover with a radar phone,  
Lookin’ like a tramp, like a video vamp,  
Demolition grumpus, can I be your man?”_

Wiggle raised an eyebrow as Cromdo continued the first stanza, watching how he placed his paw on his hip and proceeded to bump her back. Their audience let out hoots and ‘OOOHs!’ watching the pair of them being nothing less than deliberately flirtatious despite being entirely sober. It became a competition between them, continuing line by line, Wiggle refusing to let him get in more than two of the song without sticking herself in- and he liked it. Hearing her voice mingling with his… it was an almost intimate exchange, and when they got to the chorus…

_“Pour some sugar on me!  
Ooh, in the name of love~  
Pour some sugar on me!  
C'mon, fire me up~”_

The two locked eyes, challenging one another. The song continued. Wiggle tossed her glasses into the audience, and not one to be outdone, Cromdo ended up doing the same with his tie. Both were caught with exuberance by a pair of grumps in the audience. After all, it wasn’t every day an actual celebrity showed up to do karaoke with someone who was already good (although it was strange that it happened twice, now). 

_“Take a bottle, shake it up…”_ Wiggle purred.

_“…Break the bubble, break it up!”_ Cromdo cried.

His arm swung out, and caught Wiggle’s by the crook of the elbow, holding her close and tight as the chorus hit, and she rose to his bait with practiced grace, narrowing her eyes and singing at the top of her lungs. Each one demanded more out of the other with every verse. This was a battle to the death, and neither would be willing to relinquish.

_“Pour some sugar on me,  
Oh, in the name of love!”_

They stood locked together until the end of the song, when the final guitars rang out and the last line of lyrics rolled across the screen. The audience was losing their minds, hooting and hollering- but somehow Cromdo didn’t hear any of it. The world had shrunk down entirely to him, and Wiggle’s face, so close to his- the two of them breathing deeply and smiling at one another with their fur puffed every which way. 

Perhaps, if he were a bolder grumpus, he would have closed the gap between them.

It was the realization of what he wanted that brought him back down to earth, and he slowly unhooked his arm from Wiggle’s. If she noticed his struggle, she didn’t call attention to it. She merely smoothed her paw over her hair and placed down the microphone, before blowing a kiss to the adoring crowd. It made bubbles rise up in Cromdo’s chest, letting out a hearty laugh from it, and waving the microphone above his head.

“Ey, next one’s on me! Who wants it?!” he shouted. A few grumps clamored for it, and he let them, before turning back to Wiggle to gesture with his head off the stage. “Alright, alright, that was fun. Back to work.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” she replied, giving him a lazy little salute as she traipsed off the stage, and he watched her, before making a show of stepping down nonchalantly, even as he was grabbed and shaken jocularly by his acquaintances and regulars.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m pretty great,” he brushed them off, smirking. “Where’s my tie?”

The tie turned out to be lost forever, but that was alright. There was nothing to be done about the way the fur on his chest had puffed up like a grump half his age, and it wasn’t until he sealed himself away in the bathroom that he could look at himself, and for a split second he saw Wiggle in the mirror, looking back at him. He reached up, and gripped his chest, feeling like his heart was caught in a vice. Surely this time he was about to die.

“She’s probably done stuff like that with hundreds of grumps, don’t let it grumpin’ get to your head,” he told himself. “YOU shouldn’t have made such a big show out of it! Now they’re going to expect it more often! You’re running a business and you’re not twenty five anymore, Face, _get your shit together!_ ” 

He glowered at himself in the mirror, and sighed. “Oh grump. Oh no. This can’t be happening. How long have I…? Maybe since Snaktooth? I don’t know…” He thought about his dreams, about how the only source of comfort within them had been… her.

“I am so fucked.”

Meanwhile, out at the bar, Wiggle was churning out drinks left and right, but her gaze kept falling back to the bathroom, wondering if Cromdo was alright, deciding to put her zeal for finishing her new platinum record on hold for just one more night- to have fun, and to worry about him. Just a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What would you call the band anyway? Grump Leppard? Def Grumpus? Anyway I hope you enjoyed.


	4. Guessing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a total number of chapters! It's going to be six.
> 
> Enjoy Wiggle's song in this chapter, it's an original one written by me. 
> 
> Have fun.

_“That’s why we gotta daaaaance~! We’ll dance to the light of the moon!  
Hang our paws up in the air like-_ wait, that’s terrible.”

Two and a half weeks had passed since Wiggle began her odyssey that was working in Cromdo’s bar (she refused to call it _The Cromdominium_ on principle). It wasn’t bad, really it wasn’t. Actually it was rather fun. Bartending was like performing, and every now and again she could stop when she was stressed, and take up the stage to sing anything other than _Do The Wiggle_ , something she considered a privilege more than anything else. Still, she never lost sight of her goal, which was to use the experience as leverage with which to write a new hit- one that would eclipse Do The Wiggle entirely, and hopefully make anyone who still cared about it forget entirely about _An Ode To Gramble_.

Wiggle used her foot to pick up the paper she was writing lyrics on, shook her head, and stopped playing the banjo just long enough to crumple it up and toss it over her head behind her with the rest of them. Her paws came up to run over her face, and she let out a weary grumble.

“…What is wrong with me?” she murmured, “I couldn’t do it on Snaktooth and I can’t seem to do it now.” She rose, beginning to pace, playing the banjo again- slowly at first, but in her growing frustration began to pluck furiously, her expression twisting up into one of treacherous ennui. From downstairs in the bar area, where Cromdo was preparing for the day wiping the scuffs off of highball glasses, he heard a defeated shriek transpire.

“Aw grump…” he murmured, and maneuvered towards a hot plate to put up a kettle of water. It was something Cromdo had picked up especially for Wiggle, when he read online that she preferred espresso to regular black coffee. Well, actually- against all his better judgement- he had asked Beffica.

“You’re trying to impress her, that’s so cute,” she had said, and his chagrin was palpable. “She likes espresso; but you can’t expect it to come out well in a drip maker. Make it in a moka pot.”

Cromdo glowered at the purple grumpus. “Do I look like I know what a fucking _moka pot_ is?”

He ended up buying a french press. His ex-wife used those. He knew how to make coffee in it. Espresso was a bit more… difficult. For one thing he couldn’t just use the dollar-store coffee he usually drank. No, he had to grind his own beans. And they had to be organic and fair trade, Beffica specified. Cromdo had no idea what either of those things really meant. Yet, as it stood, he was carrying the tiny cup of coffee upstairs to where Wiggle was just about to smash her banjo onto the floor in anger.

“You do that, and you’ll have nothing,” he said, and Wiggle let out a sigh. 

“I have nothing now!” she cried. “I’m at the end of my rope, darling!”

His paw found her arm and led her over to her desk, where he sat her down and placed the coffee in its tiny cup down before her. He hated those itty bitty cups- when he drank coffee, he wanted the cup to be bigger than a baby grump’s head- but the sight of it was enough to make Wiggle pause, and pick it up to inhale the rich aroma. For all the trouble it took to make, he had to admit, it did smell good. Wiggle sniffed, and took it up, taking a dainty sip.

“…Thank you, dear,” she said. “Sorry, I can’t stand to be seen like this.”

He knew how she felt. Well, not entirely- but he knew how it felt to want to shy away from the world when one was not looking their best. In this case, looking particularly their worst. He ached to see her so distraught, so he turned to head towards the piles of crumpled papers, unfolding one of them to peer over it.

“You know this isn’t all terrible,” he said. “I couldn’t write something like this.”

“It’s positively dreadful,” she replied, “if you couldn’t write anything like that, I should have you write my songs for me.”

“Wiggle…”

She sighed and put her head in her paws, scratching faintly at her scalp and messing up her hair. Cromdo tossed the papers up into the air and watched them fall around him. “I’m starting to lose hope, Cromdo. It’s been two weeks and I can’t seem to write anything. I’m starting to think the only way i’ll get another, even half-way good song is if I abuse myself like I did the first time. Lightning’s gotta strike twice, darling. Just one more time. It’s gotta.”

“It’s not gonna happen like that,” he admonished immediately. “You’re not just living up here so you can be a suffering artist, Wigs, you have a job to do downstairs- and I know we like to have fun but it’s still my livelihood now. Don’t think I don’t know about that five day bender you went on before you wrote Do The Wiggle. Not gonna happen under my watch.”

With a look of surprise, Wiggle stared at him, the cup halfway to her mouth, how so often she had caught him in a state of shock. Cromdo folded his arms, glowering at her- Not in a mean way, at least he hoped it didn’t look too mean. He was trying to be gentle, but firm, but he knew he was a mean grumpus, and a mean looking grumpus at that. It’s just how it was. Wiggle didn’t see that, however. She saw a grump who cared, in his own strange way. It was nice.

“Now come on, put on your little bow tie and get downstairs, the sun’s going down.”

Ah, the dusk rush. These were the grumps who just got out of work, usually younger ones working their retail day shifts who were entirely too ready to become inebriated and rant themseslves stupid through the world’s angriest songs. Since stealing the wifi from across the street, their song library had tripled, as Wiggle downloaded a new batch every few days or so.

“How much does that thing hold?” Cromdo asked.

“I’ll just delete the ones no one ever sings if it gets too full. How do you feel about scrapping Don’t Stop Believing?”

“Do it. I hate that song.” 

Wiggle snorted, flicking out their claws to better press the small buttons on the interface of the machine. Big, round paws were nice to play with, but a little unwieldy for small jobs like this. Soon enough, the place began to fill up, and Cromdo and Wiggle found themselves up to their knees in grumps, waiting to blow off some steam.

“I’m thinking about hiring a chef,” said Cromdo. “Start selling food.”

“That might be difficult with no kitchen, darling.”

“Well obviously I’d build one,” he replied, casting her a little chagrined look. She smiled at him. “I mean, with the money from you, I might be able to do a lot of things.”

That was right, she had agreed to fund his upstairs if he let her work there. It was nice of him to do so, especially since he actually seemed to believe in her writing skills. She couldn’t help but wonder, though, was he still chasing after money like he once was? Snaktooth, like the rest of them, had changed him. Maybe she was overthinking this- after all the most he said about anything was when he was drunk and everyone knew how trustworthy an inebriated grifter was. But last night he had been so passionate, and his voice rang out beautifully. It was confusing. She wished she could know what he was thinking.

“Hi, Wiggle! Whatcha looking at?”

She was caught off guard by the familiar voice, looking up quickly at the sight of not just Filbo, but three other of their compatriots. Buddy was there, obviously, holding Filbo’s paw (Filbo never seemed to be far away from Buddy since the wedding, and since Filbo helped clear him of his legally dead status), but there was also…

“Yoo, Wiggle-girl!” Chandlo held up his paw exuberently, “up top!”

“Chandlo! Snorpington!” She exclaimed, pulling herself back together and slapping Chandlo’s palm with her own firmly.

“It’s been forever, Wigs!”

“Yes, it has been some time,” Snorpy interjected, adjusting his glasses. He was looking around fitfully, as if trying to locate something deathly important. Instead of one of the aprons he perpetually wore, he was sporting overalls today that conspicuously tightened around the legs. Not to show them off at all. Of course not.

“These two were in town,” Buddy explained, “we wanted to show them the coolest place in the city.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” came a voice from behind Wiggle as Cromdo set about making a cocktail for a guest. Over the last week he had implored Wiggle to teach him how to make some of her weird modern drinks, so he could prepare them when she was busy. Overall it went swimmingly. “You four been up to anything good, anything bad? Anything ugly?”

“I dunno, why don’t you tell him?” Filbo said, gesturing to Chandlo, who was taking a seat at the bar and, at the same time, trying to alleviate Snorpy of whatever had made him so nervous. 

“Well… we wanted it to be a surprise but-” he held out a paw, revealing the glittering gold band beset with gemstones that made Cromdo a bit jealous. “After Snaktooth I, you know, totally decided to beef up my brain some- so I went back to college to study philosophy and engineering. Partially for myself but also so I could help Snorpy with his tech, you know? So we’re working on a new anti-Grumpinati alarm system-”

“Chandlo, dearest, we’ve been over this, if you mention them by name they’re more likely to target you on the mainland!” Snorpy hissed, and a cursory glance revealed he had a ring on his paw, as well. “I fashioned the rings myself with special micro jamming devices designed to eliminate tracking signals within the immediate vicinity. As long as you stand within ten feet of them, they can’t listen in on you, or hijack your webcams.”

“What if they jack the rings?” Cromdo asked. Snorpy’s brow furrowed.

“You think I have not prepared for that eventuality?” He exclaimed, “my back up system-”

“Why don’t you finish, Chandlo darling?” Wiggle asked, placing her elbows on the bar top to listen with rapt attention. Chandlo sighed happily, his attention seemingly drawn back to Snorpy as he interjected with his machinations.

“Not much else to say. Snorp-dawg just comes out with these bomb-ass rings while my back was turned, and next thing you know, we’re getting married in August.”

He reached down into his shirt, and pulled out two invitations, sliding them over to Wiggle and Cromdo with a bit of a cheeky grin. “Will you need one invite, or two?”

Cromdo clenched the glass, his eyes flying open. Filbo and Buddy exchanged glances, eager to see what would come out of his mouth. Luckily, Wiggle answered for him. “Of course we need two, darling, don’t be silly.”

She snatched them up, and passed one to Cromdo, who was trying to smooth his fur down as he took it. “Yeah, yeah, thanks, we’ll be there.”

“It’s gonna be rad, you guys, we got the venue all picked out.”

“We still need to hire a photographer, Beffica volunteered, but…” Snorpy said, pursing his lips in a displeased way. “If I wanted my business on the internet I’d do it myself, at least then I could use a protected browser.”

“You think Beff would put your wedding photos on Grumpter?” Buddy asked incredulously.

“Why not? She puts everything else on there for her legions of followers to consume!”

“Easy, Snorpy,” Chandlo said with a patient smile. “Remember what we said before we left tonight?”

“Ah- yes- try and have fun. Thank you, Chandlo, for being understanding.”

“Aw, anytime.”

Chandlo rested his head into the crook of Snorpy’s neck and let out a loud purr, and a goofy grin spread over the face of the yellow grumpus. Cromdo glanced over at Wiggle, who seemed positively delighted by the display, and then at Filbo and Buddy, who were infuriatingly still holding paws.

He would have asked why he was so mad, but he knew, deep down. He looked down at Wiggle’s paw, but instead of dwelling on the notion of placing his own upon it, he busied himself mixing a drink, and slamming it down on the table before Snorpy and Chandlo.

“I made you a Grump Island Iced Tea, should loosen you up, Fizzlebean. Do you want one straw, or two?”

A moment passed between them, and Cromdo realized they were all staring at him, and he realized what he had said. “…I’ll grab two." 

The older grumpus scurried away, and Wiggle glanced between the lot of them. Filbo had begun nervously whistling to try and diffuse the moment, and Wiggle sighed. 

"Excuse me a moment,” she said before stepping away to follow Cromdo. In the meantime, Snorpy picked up the drink and sniffed it. His nose wrinkled.

“Grumps drink this?”

“Don’t knock it ‘till you tried it, dawg.”

Wiggle followed Cromdo through the building, into the closet he kept the supplies. She found him deliberating between straws, his fur standing on end. “What was that?” She questioned.

“You know they’re making fun of us, right?” Wiggle blinked, and folded her arms.

“For what?”

“Do you want one invite or two,” Cromdo mocked, “I mean, two, obviously.”

Wiggle couldn’t help but snicker, just a little bit. “Is that all? Darling, it was just a little joke.”

“Is that what we are to other grumps, a joke?” He said, and Wiggle couldn’t help but be shocked at how serious he was, suddenly. “You don’t find anything wrong with that?" 

”…I’m sorry, Cromdo,“ she said, the wind knocked out of her sails. Cromdo sighed, grabbing two straws he didn’t actually have to go in there to get, and passing Wiggle by in the threshold. Wiggle stood in the meanwhile, confused and just a tad bit hurt before turning tail to join him. She had a job to do after all. 

Meanwhile, back at the bar, Filbo and Buddy were snickering at Chandlo attempting to maneuver a lap full of Snorpy, who had shot down the entire drink at Chandlo’s suggestion (to not 'knock it’ until he 'tried it’). No straw necessary. He was decidedly a lightweight, unlike his sibling.

"And ANOTHER thing I love about Chandlo is his sheer wisdom,” he said, extrapolating to Chandlo, as it were. “The grump speaks in poetry, you’ll have to hear it someday…”

“Aw, Snorp~” he said.

“Wha? Chandlo? When did you get here?”

Cromdo stuck out his tongue and tossed the straws behind him unceremoniously. “Screw this, I need a break. I’m going to go pick a song.”

“Oh oh oh OH!” Snorpy shouted, suitably loosened up, and maneuvering off Chandlo’s lap. “I want in! Something- something computery if you’ve got it!”

Cromdo shrugged. “Yeah, probably, any of you other guys?”

“Yeah!” Filbo exclaimed, giving Buddy a little shake. “Let’s do it! Please!”

“The mayor singing karaoke more than twice a month? What will the people think?” Buddy teased, but when Filbo blinked his big purple eyes at him, it was all over, and soon the three of them were heading up to the stage like they were being paid to do it. Chandlo stood behind, watching Snorpy let himself have fun with adoration in his face.

“Wiggle,” said Cromdo as he loosened his tie, “watch the bar, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“You got it boss,” she said, watching as he left them. With Cromdo gone, she turned her attention to Chandlo. “Aren’t you going to get up there?”

“Nah, dawg,” he said, as the music started to play- an upbeat techno song. “This is Snorpy’s time to shine.”

“You know, it’s really something what you two have,” she said wistfully, watching as the yellow grumpus belted out the chorus like a beast, as if the others were just his backup singers.

“Hey, you got any beer? Just plain pale ale?”

“Yeah, we got some down here. Not a lot of grumps order it, though.” Most were fans of the stronger stuff, but Cromdo liked to have it around for occasions just like this. She grabbed him some fancy brew, and was rather surprised when he inspected the bottle before popping it open on one of his tusks.

“Never would have pegged you as a craft beer kind of grump,” she said. Chandlo chuckled.

“Wise grumpus once said to me, we all got our eccentricities, Wigs.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

“Sorry, by the way, about the invitations? Didn’t mean to make Cromdo upset by it.”

Wiggle sighed and waved a paw dismissively. “He’s been on edge for about a week now. It’s all stress. Least I can do is be there for him. He’s done so much for me.”

“Yeah, Filbo was saying how you’ve been working here, so you can write.”

She chuckled, Filbo couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. “That’s right.”

“So how long have you two been a thing?”

She blinked, and stared at him. “What?”

“You know, you and Cromdo,” he said, “don’t think he would have gotten that upset if you weren’t.”

“What,” she repeated flatly, before running a paw down her face. “No, no no no darling, we’re just friends. He’s just doing me a favor.”

“A friendly favor?”

“That’s right.”

“Wigs, this man is in love with you.”

If she had been drinking anything just then, she would have spit it clear across the bar. “Excuse me?”

“Bro, didn’t you see how he looked at you when Snorpy was gettin’ his flirt on? Or how he stormed off when he got upset? Or the fact even that he lets you stay here for free?”

“It’s not for free, Chandlo, I work here, it is a job.”

“And I bet you two sing together sometimes, too.”

“As friends! Friends do karaoke together, darling!”

She thought back to all the times they sang together. It was clearly, purely platonic. Platonically laughing and singing and touching paws and bumping hips together.

Platonically.

“He was upset because he thought… you were making fun of us. He’s had a rough life, Chandlo. He deserves respect.”

"Oh, for sure!” He agreed, nodding sagely. “I’m just saying, maybe there’s another reason he was upset. Maybe he’s upset someone won’t notice him.”

Wiggle stared into space a moment, the gears turning, though a little rusty. Oh grump, Chandlo thought, she’s worse than Snorpy.

“Well, anyway, forget I said anything,” he said, watching the stage as Snorpy bowed so deeply at the end of the song, he almost fell off the stage. Luckily, Buddy and Filbo caught him, even while Cromdo mostly snickered, tossing the mic up and down cheekily. “Aw, grump, I better go get him. Hey Wigs, what’s in a Grump Island Iced Tea?”

Wiggle was still watching the stage, her thoughts burning. It wasn’t until Chandlo waved a paw in her face she snapped out of it. “Vodka, rum, gin, triple sec, tequila…”

“Grump, he gets blitzed drinking hard cider… I better go get him. I’ll be right back, save my seat, kay?”

She watched him leave, just as Snorpy began to rant about Grumpinati drones as he was being carried off the stage by Filbo and Buddy.

“Why, this whole place is probably bugged!” Snorpy was saying, even as Chandlo grabbed him in a gentle fireman carry. “They know everything we’re singing! There’s nano-devices in the liquor!”

“That kid needs some serious help.”

Wiggle turned to find that Cromdo had rejoined her at the bar, smoothing his fur down. “But he’s got a wild set of pipes.”

“Yeah, if he wasn’t afraid of listening devices he might even make a career out of it.” Cromdo laughed at just the thought, “holy grump, can you imagine the genre?”

Wiggle paused, stroking her chin in thought. “Experimental grump house, all the way.”

Cromdo sighed happily after the laughter bubbled out of him, “please, for the love of grump, teach me these words. As far as I’m concerned a house is for living in- nothing experimental about it.”

Wiggle grinned at him. Rubbing her paws together idly, taking in his lazy expression. She noticed, dimly, how handsome he could be when he wasn’t scowling. An older sort of attractive she found oddly appealing, surprise surprise.

It was startling.

“They’re a cute couple,” Buddy said to Chandlo, quietly, as they approached the bar again.

“Yeah, but keep it under your hat, Buds,” Chandlo replied. “She’s, like, totally in denial.”

“You think she’s still getting over Gramble?” Filbo questioned.

“Oh. No doubt about it.”

“Dang.”

The rest of the night went along swimmingly, in spite of Snorpy’s drunken rambling. Cromdo ended up making him one more drink, just because it was funny as all get out, until Chandlo offered- jocularly, but in no way not seriously- to hang him from a coat hook.

“Spoil sport,” Cromdo murmured.

Him and Wiggle ended up having to stay late to clean up, graciously thanking their four friends for showing up, and giving Chandlo the RSVP on their invitations immediately, in person. For the first time that night it was peaceful, but Wiggle kept looking back to Cromdo, replaying Chandlo’s words in her mind. She toed the high wire over the pit that was her innermost confusion, and Cromdo noticed her unresponsive nature. For one thing, she wasn’t wiggling.

“Something on your mind?” He asked, in the midst of cleaning a table. He didn’t manage to jolt Wiggle back to reality until he cracked his back, and the sound resonated through the building. The acoustics were quite good.

“Darling, you need a chiropractor,” she said with a chuckle.

“Cut me some slack, I’m old,” he said ruefully. Again, Chandlo’s words echoed within her, and she laughed softly under her breath. “Yeah, yeah, laugh at an old man. I should fire you for that.”

“You’re not that old, dear,” she said, mopping up a little, “and I’m not laughing at you.”

“Well, what are ya laughing at? Don’t leave me in suspense.”

“Well-” she began, still smiling over the absurdity of it. “You wouldn’t believe what Chandlo said to me while you lot were singing.”

“That’s what happens when you go to college, you think you know everything,” he said with a grin. “What’d he say?”

“He said you’re in love with me.”

Silence fell, save for Cromdo’s paw hitting the table he was sitting at. A shocked motion, unable to parse for a moment what had come out of her mouth. She turned to him, smiling broadly. He hated it. It was so beautiful.

“Isn’t that a riot?” She asked, and he could feel his heart splitting at the seams. He turned away from her and mumbled something. “What?”

“Chandlo needs to keep his grumping mouth shut,” he snapped. Wiggle clutched the mop, taken aback. Before she could respond he jumped out of the chair, “I’m gonna go smoke.”

“Darling…”

“And stop calling me that!” He cried, and stormed out of the building, taking no effort to not slam the door as he did so. Wiggle stood with the mop limp in her paws as realization dawned on her that she had said the wrong thing.

“…Oh grump…” she murmured, kicking herself as she continued her job with careful meticulousness. Meanwhile, outside, Cromdo was smoking like a chimney, one cigarette already under foot as he blinked the smoke out of his eyes. Just smoke.

A riot. Of course it was a riot. A girl like Wiggle, and a guy like him. She had everything, she just didn’t know it, and it infuriated him how dense she could be. She didn’t need him to write a song, why couldn’t she see that?

“You brought this on yourself, Face,” he said, chewing on the end of the cigarette and gnashing his tusks. “You should have known better.”

He didn’t return inside until he had smoked the entire pack, and fully expected Wiggle to be upstairs sleeping or working by the time he came back. He reeked of smoke, it would take forever to get it out of his fur, and he slipped his tie loose as he went to gather his things for the ride home. He was so busy wallowing, he didn’t notice the banjo plucking away on the stage across the way. Cromdo blinked, and looked up at her, sitting on a stool upon the stage and humming as she mused.

“…Whatcha doing?” He asked. Wiggle smiled a small smile at him. A little tired. The place looked immaculate, which was unexpected.

“Working on a song,” she said, “I think I finally got something down.”

“That was fast, considering this morning,” he replied.

“It came to me, just now. A little spark that grew into a thunderous wildfire in my heart. Do you want to hear it?”

Cromdo stared at her, and in spite of himself he could feel his fur standing on end. Was he really that much of an open book a grump like Chandlo could read him perfectly? He supposed it was inevitable. Against his will his emotions tended to wheedle out of him when he was angry, or happy. Right now, he didn’t know what he was. The cigarettes had calmed him down, so in the end, he placed his paws on his hips and sighed.

“Sure.”

Wiggle closed her eyes, strummed the banjo, and started to sing.

_“Oh my darling…  
_ _I know I’m not the easiest to deal with…  
_ _I’m big and loud and rough and frankly, weird,  
_ _But the kindness in your heart is never ending,  
_ _And even though you twist and shout,  
_ _A contrarian roundabout,  
_ _I know that deep inside your soul you care about me too…”_

It was quite the departure from banjo pop. It was almost alternative rock- that was a genre Cromdo knew. As she sang, he listened, and in his heart of hearts, he wanted so deeply to believe she was speaking about him. Could it be? Or was it just a cruel coincidence? Before he knew exactly what he was doing his feet were moving, carrying him to the stage and looking up at her almost reverently.

_“Oh give me anything!  
_ _I’m selfish dear, it’s not a secret, no.  
_ _Years of loneliness have left me very hungry.  
_ _I need a grump who’s sweet and tart to come and sate me-  
_ _Oh give me anything!  
_ _I’ll take it all and even if it hurts,  
_ _Let me indulge myself in you,  
_ _You can believe my words are true.  
_ _I want my fill, my dear, but only if it’s you.”_

Each footstep brought him closer to her, and each note tugged him further down the point of no return. Suddenly he was standing beside her, and she could feel his presence, though she did not open her eyes to acknowledge him. Cromdo felt like he was outside looking in, like he was flashing back to a dream… but unlike one of his nightmares, he could reach out and touch her. And he did, just on the shoulder.

_“Oh my darling,  
_ _Take my paw and lead me into your vast world,  
_ _Show me things I’ve never seen,  
_ _Thinking thoughts I’d never gleaned,  
_ _Small to you but big to me  
_ _that I’d never trade for anything!_

_Oh give me anything!  
_ _I’m selfish dear, it’s not a secret, no.  
_ _Years of loneliness have left me very hungry.  
_ _I need a grump who’s sweet and tart to come and sate me-  
_ _Oh give me anything!  
_ _I’ll take it all and even if it hurts,  
_ _Let me indulge myself in you,  
_ _You can believe my words are true._  
_I want my fill, my dear, but only if it’s you…  
_ _I want my fill, my dear, but only if it’s you.”_

Perhaps she just wanted to see what he would do. Perhaps she needed confirmation that Chandlo was correct. Perhaps… grump dammit, he was so short!

“Well, it’s sort of rough, but, what do you think…? Cromdo?”

He was busy carrying a stool up to the stage, and placing it down in front of her. Then, he climbed upon it to reach up. Both of his paws framing her face more gently than she thought he was even capable of.

He tilted her glasses up, perching them on top of her head carefully, and then he wasn’t at all gentle anymore. The kiss was brutal- crushing- his mouth upon hers with reckless abandon unlike any lovers she’d ever had before. His tusks were bumping against her face, and his paws sunk into her fur as he took what he had wanted for so long. Since Snaktooth, since they escaped- two whole years of agonized waiting to finally hear her sing for him…

Then he pulled back, breathing heavily as he knelt on the stool before her, and she stared at him in such a state of shock that it was enough to give Cromdo a good, metaphorical kick in the ass. 

“Cromdo…” she murmured, breathless and clutching the banjo tightly before he leaned back from her, remembering all too abruptly his allergy to jail time. He ended up flailing a little in his zeal to put space between them, until he flailed himself right off the stool, landing onto the stage with a heavy thud.

“Cromdo! Are you alright?!” She exclaimed, but he was already on his feet, running for the door. “Wait!”

“Don’t-” he said, one paw on the door and pushing it open. “Don’t worry about opening the place tomorrow.”

“Cromdo!”

“I- I just need to think…”

“Cromdo!”

He was already out the door.


	5. Meaning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how this fic is rated M for explicit sex? This is it, this is the chapter.
> 
> Please enjoy my take on grumpus anatomy, at least one of my takes on it.

If Cromdo had had it in him, he’d be pacing all over his apartment, cussing up a storm and kicking things around in his frustration, but as it stood, he was simply sitting on a chair in the approximation of his living room, with a cup of tea (tea, for grumps’ sake, he never drank tea), gazing out the window. He kept clenching and unclenching his paw, watching the sun come up, wishing he could sleep at all. He kept flashing back to the kiss, how ruthless he had allowed himself to be- how hungry, like Wiggle’s song had said. 

“Fuck,” he said, and pressed his paw to his face, throwing his head back and taking the tea down with it. It was hot- chamomile- something Shellsy had gotten him back when he told her about his myriad fucked up dreams.

“Try it,” she had told him, “it’ll put you right out.” It wasn’t getting to sleep that was the problem, it was being asleep that killed him. Still, he was doing his best to try and be more polite (sort of), and besides, he didn’t have it in him to be purposefully irritable to a woman twice his age.

As it turned out, it worked. The combination of stress and the machinations of the tea had him staggering towards his bed, falling down upon it and closing his eyes, drifting away with ease. When he opened them, he was back on Snaktooth, but things were different. For one thing, it was quiet. Not a razzby or pineantula to be heard scurrying about the beach. Oh no. He looked down, sighing in relief at the sight of his own red fur- he wasn’t any other grump but himself.

He was alone, so he started walking, carrying himself across the beach and listening to the sounds of the waves and wind through the trees. It went on much longer than expected, and in the strange reality of dreams, this was normal to him. He walked, and walked, until he heard something different than nature sounds- a banjo. It turned out, he was just lucid enough to cuss to himself, turning around and seeing her sitting in the sand as the froth of the ocean lapped at her feet idly. When would his dreams allow him a moment of peace? Carefully he approached, with little recourse, and sat down beside her, glancing over periodically to see the wind blow through her cheepoof hair, and rustle her fur delicately. They did not speak, or at least he didn’t- Wiggle was humming to herself, strumming slowly, and after a while Cromdo opened his mouth to say something- to ask her what she was doing, why was she always invading his dreams like this.

_“Wiggle, I love you.”_

That wasn’t at all what he had meant to say, and he slapped his paws over his mouth, horrified. The music stopped, her paw still hovering over the dual strings of the instrument before she turned to face him, and he gazed up at her with wide, terrified eyes, his pupils contracted to pin-points. Well. He had her attention, at least. Maybe now, if he tried…

_“I’m not sorry.”_

Dammit! This was hopeless. He clamored to his feet, and like that he was at perfect level with her face, which made it all the easier for her to lean forward and steal a kiss, and puff his fur up terribly. He closed his eyes, but when he brought his paw up to touch her face a sound interrupted abruptly. A banging. A knocking?

He opened his eyes, sitting up in bed, groggily rubbing his eyes and slowly sliding off of it, trudging his feet across the apartment to place his paw on the doorknob. If this were his lawyer again he was going to have words. Angry words.

The door opened, and he blinked as he looked up at Wiggle standing there, in her coat and hat. He immediately flushed a dark red, his fur standing on end. When would he learn to control that? “Wiggle…”

“Hi, Cromdo,” she said, “may I come in?”

Slowly he stepped aside, allowing her to cross the threshold, and was immediately embarrassed by the state of the place. It wasn’t messy, per say, but it was clearly not the best living arrangement for any grump. The walls had been painted over a multitude of times to hide peeling, leaving slightly raised textures here and there, some with the colour faintly off, and the ceiling had those little popcorns on it in tightly packed clusters everywhere. The floorboards only recently stopped squeaking when he walked on them, but Wiggle weighed more than he did, so when she stepped on certain places, the faintest protests emerged from the wood, and the furniture… well. He put blankets over most everything, so that when company did come over, they couldn’t see exactly what the furniture looked like. Still, Wiggle didn’t seem bothered by any of this. After all, she had been living in an underdeveloped second floor for the better part of a month. At least his place had heat.

“How did you find me?” he asked, closing the door behind them. Slowly Wiggle reached into her coat and pulled something out- a bundle of envelopes, some with red stamps on them.

“You really shouldn’t leave your mail out where grumps can find them,” she said, “especially in your place of employment.” He jumped up and grabbed at them, clutching them close to his chest. Sometimes, he would grab his mail from the slot on the way to the bar and carry it with him to work when he wasn’t thinking. He’d just tuck it away under the bar and simply forget about it. Wiggle smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry, I was cleaning up and found them behind the register. I thought perhaps you’d like them back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, tossing them onto the table. So now an awkward moment was being made even more awkward by his own neglectfulness. “Thank you.”

“Cromdo…” she began.

“You can go now,” he cut her off.

“Cromdo,” she said, more firmly, and it made his shoulders go up in surprise. “You’re going to hear me out.”

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, and he had to be careful when he did that, lest he start bleeding all over, but he nodded. “I’ll put up some coffee. Hope you don’t mind the cheap stuff.”

“I grew up on it.”

Shortly after, two steaming mugs of black coffee were sitting before them at his table, and he was sitting across from her, staring into his. Wiggle had taken off her hat and placed it on a nearby chair before seating herself, and clutched the mug carefully. It was quiet for a while, in a way Cromdo couldn’t possibly stand.

“I want to apologize,” he said suddenly.

“For what?”

He blinked, looking up at her as she ran her finger tip around the rim of the mug thoughtfully. “You know for what.”

“I really don’t.”

Disbelief flashed through his face, and he narrowed his eyes, “okay, not funny, Wigglebottom.”

“It’s not funny, no.”

Inhaling deeply, Cromdo took a swig of his coffee and slammed the mug down, “if you came here to make a fool out of me you better have another grumping plan up your sleeve because this is my house and I don’t have to tolerate-”

“You should have just said something.”

He stopped mid-rant, his fingers around the mug almost painfully tight. “...And how was I supposed to say it?”

“Maybe something like, ‘Wiggle I like you’, or, ‘I have feelings for you’, something like that.”

Cromdo stared at her for a moment as she smiled at him, and then, he laughed. She raised her brow at him, surprised. “What? Are you crazy? Just… come out and say it? You do realize who I am, right? And who you are? Come on, be real, would you have taken it seriously?”

“Of course I would have,” she answered, and he noticed how she had not once called him ‘darling’ the entire conversation.

“Oh yeah?” he replied, “how many grumps have told you they had feelings for you in your life? Even before you made _Do The Wiggle_? A lot, right? I bet.”

It was her turn to narrow her eyes as she mulled over the statement, and… she hated to admit it was true. The number of love letters and avid fans attempting to break into her dressing room was palpable, even before Lizbert and Eggabell had done so.

“What’s one more gotta mean?” he said, and took another sip. “Maybe if I were a different grump…”

“You’re talking about him, aren’t you?” she said, opening her palms to show off her green paw pads. “About Gramble.”

“You’ve still got feelings for him,” he said, accusatory. “Him and me, we’re polar opposites. He’s kind and soft, I'm cold and hard. It’s that simple.”

“It’s not,” she replied, and sighed at him. “You’re wrong about Gramble.”

“What, he’s got a side I didn’t see on Snaktooth? He’s secretly a complete bastard?” he asked, now curious. Wiggle let out a hollow laugh.

“Not as such,” she said, waving her paw dismissively. “No, he’s a sweetheart, but I don’t still have feelings for him.”

“Heh, liar,” Cromdo argued. Wiggle shook her head.

“I don’t- it’s more like… this is going to sound dreadful.”

“Oh yeah? Try me.”

“I miss the idea of Gramble.”

“...Explain,” Cromdo inquired.

“I miss the idea that someone loved Wiggle Wigglebottom for Wiggle Wigglebottom, and not for _Do The Wiggle_ ,” she said, and rested her cheek on her paw. She slid the mug of coffee over to her and took a long, long sip, draining half the mug.

“You know, back on snaktooth, the thing was, I really thought I had a connection with Gramble. I thought we were like this-” she held up her paw and crossed her two fingers together, signifying the tightness of them. “I liked him and he seemed to like me. I wanted to show him how much I cared when we made it back to the mainland... but the more I thought about it after the controversy... maybe he was just the right grump in the wrong place.”

“I don't understand…” Cromdo murmured, terribly lost.

“I was too lovestruck to realize it two years ago, but I should have known it never would have worked on the mainland. At least, not the way I am, and the way he is. He's quiet and sensible. And i'm Wiggle Wigglebottom.”

“...You are Wiggle Wigglebottom,” Cromdo said after a long beat, and he placed his paw down on the table, holding it upward and exposing his own deep blue paw pads, as if looking for a paw to hold. “You’re smart and funny, and tremendously talented. You’re amazing.”

She let out a small guffaw, and slugged back her coffee. “That’s coming from a place of admiration, you know i’m none of those things.”

“Oh _shut up_ ,” Cromdo said, and closed his paw into a fist, banging it on the table in a way that shocked the taller grumpus, clutching the mug to her chest with shock in her eyes. 

“Stop with that grump shit. I don’t care how rough it’s been for you to write your damn music, you’re a spectacular grump. You work hard, grumps like you. You’re a fucking millionaire, but you decided to help me, a grump who’s almost twice your age, run his brand new business so he didn’t break himself trying to do it all by himself, for free. How many others would have done the same? And don’t give me any self-deprecating crap about how you were doing it for ‘the inspiration’ or whatever selfish reasoning you’re thinking- yeah, you were bein’ selfish, but you didn’t need to help me. That was all you. It was you, being a decent grump. Don’t be telling me any different.” He hadn’t realized it, but he had lifted himself up as he spoke, both paws on the table, all the better to put him at Wiggle’s eye level. She merely stared at him, in a state of disbelief.

“Cromdo…” she said quietly, “I’ve accomplished nothing of any real note. _Do The Wiggle_ is objectively a failure. Sure, it makes grumps happy but, it’s such a vapid waste of a song…”

“And just what is so wrong with making grumps happy?” he said, wrinkling his nose faintly as he narrowed his eyes at her. “Music is supposed to make grumps happy. It’s supposed to resonate with them, it’s supposed to take them away from their shitty lives. I should fire you for even insinuating it’s a failure.”

“It’s a money-maker and that’s it!” Wiggle argued, placing her mug down a little harder than she meant to. Cromdo laughed.

“That argument is not going to work on me, Wiggle,” he chided, and waved his paw dismissively. “I grew up with nothing, I would have killed to make a song like _Do The Wiggle_ , do you know why? Because it would have made me rich! That’s how it is in this world: get money, then get happiness. You’re just far too hung up on being ‘meaningful’ to realize how it really is in this world.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting your art to have meaning,” she said quietly.

“There is something wrong with it when you completely forget about everything else your art brings to the table,” he replied, “ _Do The Wiggle_ is an amazing work of art because it’s so ‘trite’ and ‘samey’, as you called it. It’s simple and addictive, everyone can understand it! It gets grumps moving- it helps them relax, and smile, and feel things they might have never felt before, even if it’s just… the desire to sing it all afternoon. For some grumps… it was something to help them realize their dreams.”

He looked up to make sure she was still listening, and she was, in rapt attention. “ _Do The Wiggle_ brought Liz and Egg to you. It brought you to Snaktooth, it brought you to Gramble, and it brought… it brought me to you. If you can’t call that meaningful- just because it doesn’t have some kind of complicated grump shit metaphor attached to it- then I don’t know what is.”

Cromdo’s chest rose and fell deeply, as though he’d expended all that energy just talking to her, but it was the most honest he had ever been in his entire life. His mug was empty, and he looked down into her’s. “...You want some more coffee?”

She didn’t answer him. “Wiggle?”

“Cromdo.”

“Yes?”

He blinked, his eyes wide, leaning over the table as if to hear her better before she suddenly grabbed him by the cheeks and crushed her lips to his. His fur puffed up, his heart hammered, but he screwed his eyes shut and dragged his paws up her arms, clenching tight onto her shoulders to squeeze the two of them together. Wiggle pulled back only a moment to tug off her glasses, dropping them onto the table and returning to the embrace, her paws better positioning themselves on his back more comfortably. Cromdo could feel the strength of his dreams rising, the desire that welled within them breaking through into the waking world as he kissed her, knowing that she had sprung it on him. He pulled apart from her a moment to catch his breath, but he dove in again, a paw resting on her cheek- it seemed he didn’t know where to put his paws, and was looking for any place he could possibly reach that she would let him. 

He found purchase finally when her own paw grasped his, and dragged it downward, giving him permission to place it on her hip. So he did, and without meaning to, he flicked out his claws and combed them through the fur under her coat, the sensation of it making a purr rumble up through her chest. It was enough to spur him on, doing the same with the other paw until he was effectively grooming her, his claws slowly circling and running over her sides and back.

“Ooh, _darling_ …” she drawled as his mouth left her’s, and slowly Cromdo pulled back, looking down at her with his paws hanging aloft between them. He was flushed a heady crimson, darker than his fur by far, and his fur was standing on end, puffed up from the crown of his head to his toes. Somehow, during the moment, he had crawled up onto the table, and was kneeling upon it in a way that actually left him taller than Wiggle, and he had to admit, he sort of enjoyed being the tall one for a change.

“Sorry, not sorry,” he said, and Wiggle brought her paw up to laugh into it joyously. It cracked the look of shock that had taken up on Cromdo’s face, and he smiled.

“Mind if I take off my coat…?” Wiggle asked, and Cromdo nodded quickly.

“Yeah, I mean no! I mean-” he slapped his face. “Take it off, sure.”

“May I stay, then?”

“Stay,” Cromdo said, looking out from between his fingers. “Sure.”

“You know I think we’ll be disappointing a lot of grumps, not opening up on a friday night.”

“They can fuck off.” 

Wiggle laughed again as Cromdo slid off the table, brushing himself off but making no attempt at really smoothing his fur out. The damage to his reputation had been done already, but if it was in front of her, it was hard to really mind. In the end he ended up grabbing her paw and dragging it to his lips, and placing a kiss upon it. The sun was down, the lights were dim (he kept them dim, so he could keep the electric bill under control), and Wiggle turned her paw over to lace her fingers with his.

“I’m a bit tired,” she said, “I don’t suppose you have a spare bed?”

“I have my bed.”

“I like the sound of that.”

It wasn’t at all a fine bed. It was only a bit larger than a twin, after all. The bedroom was filled with framed posters of old actors and musicals, and when Wiggle saw them she grinned in delight. “Why Cromdo, I didn’t know you had an affinity for showtunes.”

“Don’t tell anybody,” he said, “it’s bad enough you know.”

“I’d say I know a lot about you.”

“And that’s bad enough.”

A pair of paws found their way to his shoulders, and suddenly there were claws, gently caressing through his fur from the crook of his neck up to his face, across his puffed up cheeks. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, a deep purr resonating out his mouth.

“I thought you were tired…?” he asked.

“I lied, dear.”

“Ah. An ulterior motive,” he said, a crooked smile forming over his face as he tilted it against her paw. “You’re a bad grump.”

“Not any worse than you.”

“Oho, don’t say that,” he purred. “I’m a bad guy, Wiggle, everybody says so.”

She didn’t respond to that directly, instead opting to hoist him up and sit him on the bed, and tilting his face up towards her’s. She was positioned precariously between his legs, bending down to kiss over his face more sweetly than any grump ever had before- even his ex-wife wasn’t much for foreplay. “Wait- wait wait-” he said, placing his paws on her arms a moment, reluctantly stopping her.

“What is it?” she questioned.

“I gotta know i’m not gonna be something you regret in the morning,” he said, glancing away with a fiery blush. “I’m sick of being grump’s regrets.”

“Darling,” she said, pressing her face against his. “Wiggle Wigglebottom doesn’t _do_ regrets.”

While she was that close he gave a covert little sniff of her breath, just to make sure she had not been drinking. It smelled minty fresh. “And you’re thinking about me, right?”

“Who else?”

“You know who else,” he murmured. A brown paw was deftly removing his tie, slipping it from his neck to bend down and nibble over his collar. Treacherously, he found, the more she moved, the less he cared who she was thinking about, he had wanted this so badly for so long.

“Of course it’s you, darling,” she said quietly. “I just really want to...” A finger pressed to his lips, and then gently slid over one of his tusks. “I really like your teeth, very handsome.”

He could feel himself positively melting under her machinations, and when she kissed him again, it was all the easier to lay back and let her climb on top of him, his paws finding a place to rest on her legs, climbing up her hips and giving her bottom a sudden squeeze. She jumped faintly. He chuckled.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Forward, are you?” Wiggle replied with a laugh of her own.

“I just really wanted to.”

Cromdo had not fucked many grumps in his life, to put it bluntly. A couple times in high school, his ex-wife… it wasn’t much to write home about. He certainly couldn’t hold a candle to Wiggle’s experience, who had her pick of groupies and admirers that extended to all walks of life, and that was just on her tours. She wanted to take charge, and he was more than happy to let her. One paw dipped between them as her mouth descended back upon his own, and he accepted her gratefully, especially when he felt the fingers parting the dense fur that all grumps had between their legs, and coming into contact with the delicate slit that was hidden there.

“Fuck…” he mumbled against her lips, Wiggle swallowing up the cuss with sweet ease. Her green tongue slipped past his lips, flicking over his blue one in a coaxing way- a teasing way, that drove him insane. All the more inside as he felt her fingers slip inside him, and a tremor ran through his touch-starved body. “Oooh fuck…!”

“Are you enjoying yourself?” she purred, and Cromdo gave a vigorous nod, her fingers plunging in and out of the dampening slit to part it, and suddenly her paw was filled with a rigid length, pushing against her palm and up against her stomach. “Oh, you are really enjoying yourself~”

“Dammit… ya caught me,” he said playfully, one of his paws resting behind her head to drag her down, forehead to forehead. She grinned back at him, her paw descending down the length of his cock to thumb over the thick knot at the base, her testing motions only making him squirm further. “Wiggle, grump dammit…” 

“What?” she snickered, but made no effort to stop tormenting him. Her paw slid up and down the shaft, pumping him firmly, heated body thrumming up against his own as she pressed herself into his side with little tantalizing nibbles across his throat and chest. Past his fur, down to his skin, and he hitched a breath when he felt the flick of a claw just delicately circling the head of his cock, swallowing at the treacherous trespass. “You’re not going to come from just this, are you?”

“Not until I get to you, first,” he breathed. She chuckled, and let out an appreciative hum as she worked, until dribbles of precum were sticking to her paw, and Cromdo was arching his back just so. It really had been a while, but he was not the kind of grump that would be outdone. “Let me go…” he said, reaching up to sink his paw into her chest fur. “Let me up.”

“Of course, darling,” Wiggle sat up, pulling away from him, and he watched as she brought her paw up to her mouth and took a darling lick of his emissions. He sat up, throbbing from her handiwork, and wasted absolutely no time thrusting himself at her, his face hitting her chest and knocking her over into the bed wildly. She laughed, her cheepoof hair bobbing atop her head as he kissed his way down her body, and let his sharp teeth move past her fur and across her skin with slick little nips. She closed her eyes and hummed, allowing Cromdo to pull her legs apart, and place a single bite against one of her inner thighs. It made her roll her hips up, her body caught in the throes of a little wiggle while his head descended, and his tongue slipped out to roll against her own sensitive entrance.

“Ooooh, _darling_ ~” she moaned, one of his paws joining down below to part her nether lips and push inside- one finger at first, but a second soon joining it. A male grumpus kept his cock hidden behind dense fur and a sheath, but for a female grumpus, the entire slit was an erogenous zone. Which meant…

“Oh f-fuck…” Wiggle gripped his head firmly as his fingers worked a deceptive kind of magic within her, body thrumming with heat he could feel rolling past the motion of her hips and into his paws. His mouth closed over her slit, tongue pushing inside to join his fingers, swirling quickly in a way not-quite practiced, but exuberant, and his own free paw landed between his own legs to close around his shaft, helplessly trying to alleviate the heat between his legs from his own aching arousal. What he lacked in grace he made up for in adoration, feverishly tending to her with his mouth and paw, until she was grabbing him by the hair and shoving him against her, sing-songy notes erupting from her mouth amidst the surge of pleasure he inspired in her. Her hips bucked, her body shook and she gave a high-pitched gasp, his motions enough to make her toes curl as she let out a loud, encouraging cry, riding out her orgasm even as his tongue never ceased its ardent pace.

“D-Darling please,” she gasped, but she still kept her paw on his head. Her eyes blinked down, and she saw what he was doing, and grinned down at him with a hot blush in her cheeks. “You little devil…”

“What?” he said, a tad muffled against her before she let him up, and he quickly took his paw from his member, glancing away as if he hadn’t just got caught with his paw literally down his metaphorical pants.

Wiggle was purring so loudly it made Cromdo’s fur stand on end as she pushed up against him firmly. “Did you really think you could get away with doing that after just making me come?” she whispered, “while i’m right in front of you?”

“I had to do something,” he replied, “i’m going to lose my mind if I don’t…”

“Then take your frustration out on me, darling~”

Cromdo shivered, and let his claws come out, sinking them into her fur to thrust her down onto the bed, heralding squeaks of protest from the old mattress. “Gladly.”

He was a rough grumpus, but Wiggle could take it. The plunging heat that invaded her as he entered her was enough to make her cry out all over again, clutching tightly to his back and pulling at his fur while he moved, tight and vigorous as she easily took his knot. With her height difference over him she could bury her face against his head, biting down hard thrusting down upon him with her powerful hips, meeting his movements halfway and legs wrapping around his waist. Cromdo kept his teeth gnashed together, clenching his paws into her sides to drag her as close as they could be, but her lips and teeth moving down against his skin broke his tough grump veneer, and pretty soon he was moaning and purring along with her, his heart in his throat as he felt himself rising to the fore.

“Oh grump, oh fuck...” he murmured, gripping her hips tightly as he rolled his own, his shaft pushing in and out of her welcoming body with gusto, his own trembling at the approach of his impending climax. Wiggle shuddered, running her claws up and down his back encouragingly, the pressure in her body mounting as she ached towards another climax.

“Go ahead,” she purred, “do it.”

With a faint hiss and a gasp he ended up pushing firmly, opening an eye to watch as her body took positively all of him more than eagerly, and she came around him a second time with a loud, low moan. Then, it was his turn, and he gripped her tight as he found his release, his breath catching and his back arching almost painfully as he came inside her, and hoped against hope she was on some kind of contraceptive. Cromdo was panting harshly, watching as Wiggle’s body lay down limply on the bed beneath him, her expression alight with tired joy, and giving a small hum as he pulled out of her, and his cock rescinded back into his body, obscured once again by slit and fur. 

Perhaps a gentleman would have gotten up, and made the lady a cup of coffee in the wake of a tremendous fuck, but Cromdo was hardly a gentleman. He simply collapsed beside her, body overheated and fur standing on end, and throwing an arm around her to bury himself against her side. She reached over and tangled a foot with his affectionately, smiling warmly and nuzzling down against his head, continuing to hum, pleased and full of him, figuratively and literally.

“...Remember when I said _Do The Wiggle_ helped me achieve my dream?”

“Yes, darling?” Wiggle replied.

“I think doing the Wiggle might have been my _other_ dream.”

She burst into a terrible guffaw. “Shut up, darling.”


	6. Rebuild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the final chapter. I hope you've enjoyed the ride.

That night, Cromdo slept dreamless. In fact he hardly moved, save for when he scooted closer to Wiggle and tossed an arm around her. No nightmares to plague him, or dreams to leave him wanting. Everything he did want was here, after all. Warm in his arms. When he finally did wake up the sun was coming up, and he was staring up at her silently. She had an arm around him in turn, close and careful, gently stroking her claws through the fur on his back as she stared up at the ceiling, and her blue eyes flickered down to him. He had no idea how long she had been watching him, or if she had just woken up, but the fact remained that she smiled, and that he had spent the last night making love to her.

Wasn’t that something?

“Morning,” he said blearily, tilting his head to the side to rest upon her chest. “You sleep at all?”

“A little bit,” she said, and gave him a squeeze. “I couldn’t stay asleep for long… I kept worrying I was going to wake up back at the bar in my bed and the whole thing would have been a dream.”

“Heh, no, trust me, I know my dreams. This isn’t a dream,” he said, resting his other paw on her chest with his face and nuzzling her firmly. “Although if it was a dream, I wouldn’t exactly be surprised.” 

“You say that like you’ve dreamed about me before,” she murmured.

“Constantly.”

Wiggle gave a small smile, “darling, I'm honored.”

They lingered in Cromdo’s bed, pushed close together by virtue of it being a small one, but neither of them really cared. She held his paw, and he kept his face against her chest, and they were messy and sticky and both needed showers, but Cromdo was terribly reluctant to do anything that might ruin the moment. It was a delicate one, after all- and he was fearful that any sudden movement could shatter it like glass. Eventually, though, Wiggle did sit up, her paw on his head as she stretched and cracked her back gently. “You have a shower, darling?”

“I do,” he said, muffled as he kept his face buried in her chest fluff. Wiggle smirked.

“You care to join me?”

He looked up at her, “it’s a bit cramped for two grumps.”

“That’s okay, I don’t think we’ll be doing much… cleaning.”

“Oh…” _Oh_. Cromdo’s lips curled up into a smirk, and he let her go to stretch out on the bed like a cat, before sitting up, and trying to fix up his hair to little avail. “I think it might even be a little too small for that, but I can’t say I don’t want to try.” Wiggle ended up leaning over the bed, pressing a kiss to his mouth before sliding off, and meandering her way through the door down the hallway. “...Hey where are you going? It’s my house!” Cromdo cried, jumping off the bed to chase her.

As it stood, Cromdo’s shower was much like his bed: tiny. It could comfortably fit one grump, but two ended up being sandwiched in there pretty tightly. Luckily, this suited the two of them just fine- as Wiggle said, the amount of cleaning they did was rather the bare minimum. When they were done their hair was sticking up all over and they were faintly damp, but they were presentable, and Cromdo was making coffee while Wiggle sat at his breakfast table and watched him adoringly.

“You’re on birth control, right?” Cromdo asked bluntly as he poured her a cup of joe.

“My heat cycle doesn’t begin for another few months, if that’s what you mean, but yes. Just in case,” she said, taking the cup with a grateful sip.

“Heh, good,” he replied, taking some for himself, “don’t feel like going through that shit again.” He pulled himself up to the chair, and reflected upon the night prior, wondering just what it would mean for them, now. “What are we going to do now?”

“That is the question, isn’t it?” Wiggle replied, flicking out a claw to tease between her teeth, before pulling out a small tuft of red fur. The sight made Cromdo blush headily. Wiggle was a biter. “I hope you don’t mind being hounded by the paparazzo. It’s an occupational hazard when dating Wiggle Wigglebottom.”

“Wiggle,” he replied, his embarrassed expression breaking into a knowing smirk. “The paparazzi haven’t been chasing you for months. Why do you think working at the bar is so peaceful?”

She stuck her green tongue out at him. “I don’t suppose you’re hungry?”

“I could eat.”

Cromdo usually slept through breakfast, but he had plenty of take out leftovers. The two of them munched on old enchiladas while Wiggle discussed recording the new song. “I think i’m going to call it _A Chance To Rebuild_.”

“What are you rebuilding, exactly?” Cromdo asked.

“Everything.”

He nodded sagely, as if he knew exactly what she meant (he didn’t, but he supported her). Wiggle knew what she meant, though, and that was good enough for him. “It’s gonna be a hit, I guarantee it.”

Wiggle chuckled appreciatively, but Cromdo ended up silent, the realization dawning that now that she had her song, she was probably going to leave for greener pastures. Though an obvious inevitability, he didn’t like it. After working with her for more than half a month, he had grown accustomed to her there, and so did his clientele. On top of his own selfish reasons for holding her back, the business would suffer. Wiggle could sense he was thinking this. 

“You’re not firing me, are you?” she asked, stabbing her fork into the muddled mess she’d made on her plate. “I’m not done working, yet.”

“You wrote your song,” he pointed out. “It’s over.”

“It hasn’t been a month yet,” Wiggle pointed out. “I’ve still got a week left.”

“Are you telling me i’ve got you on a technicality?” Cromdo asked, raising an eyebrow. Wiggle gave a cheeky nod.

“A song is like a story, Cromdo, I'm not going to rush out and record it today, I need to go through a couple of iterations first. Find one that really pops, finalize the melody… i’m not done yet… but with your help I could be, by the end of the month.” She cleaned her plate carefully, making sure not to leave a drop of cheese or sauce to go to waste. “And if the two of us happen to get up to some dalliances together in the meantime I could hardly protest, now could I?”

“That’s what you call this? A dalliance?” he asked, mostly out of curiosity. It was a lot nicer of a term than he had been thinking of. More dignified.

“Well, what would you call us?” 

Cromdo opened his mouth, but then he found himself with his fur standing on end. “Er, i’d rather not say.”

“Oh, come on! Please?” “I’d rather not get my shit slapped.”

Wiggle gave a spirited guffaw. Thank grump.

Aside from the sudden drastic change in their relationship, things at the bar hardly changed. Wiggle stood upstairs, working on her song, cutting and re-cutting and adding and re-adding lines, and during the nights they piloted the bar together, Cromdo having learned so much from her and vice versa that they could successfully manage the place without the other, some nights. It gave them the chance to take more breaks to recharge; Wiggle even convinced him to take a couple nights off that week.

"All I'm saying is that it'll be good for you… and we can spend some time together, alone~"

Cromdo chuckled when she said it, his fur standing up faintly. "Hungry for more already, huh?"

"Darling!" She exclaimed. "Yes~"

Cromdo had a very strict policy of no fucking in the bar, including Wiggle's makeshift apartment. As a result, they wound up at his home quite a bit, and as the days went by, Cromdo began to grow concerned. This was nice, but he was getting too old for casual flings. He needed to know if there was any substance behind the style.

"Hey Wiggle," he said after another one of their dalliances, "you awake?"

"I am now."

"What are we?"

"Last I checked I was Wiggle Wigglebottom and you were Cromdo Face."

"Be serious," he said, frowning. "I mean what are we? Does this have a name? Are we in a relationship, or is this just us having a whole lot of sex? I need to know, Wiggle, you can't keep me in suspense."

She was quiet for a moment, and for that moment, Cromdo feared the worst… but then she threw herself over his body, and nuzzled into his chest. His thoughts became clouded with her again.

"Darling… Cromdo…" she said, looking up at him. "I love you. I love you more than I could possibly say. Why, I've never felt more at peace in my entire life. With my work, with myself, just being here. You did that. I owe you a debt of gratitude. And the sex is really something, so don't you worry."

She reached up to muss his hair, and laughed a little at the shocked expression on his face. Inwardly, he was still a little suspicious. After all, Wiggle was quick to fall in love, if Snaktooth had taught him anything. Yet, he swallowed, and dragged her into his arms to hold her tight, and she returned the embrace. He mumbled something. "What, darling?"

"I said I love you, and you better not do me dirty or…" he poked her in the chest, "...I don't know but it'll be bad. I'm through with being jerked around."

She smiled, and cupped his face. He let out a loud purr. "You know, the gossip rags are gonna have a field day, you datin’ a grump almost twice your age.”

"Darling… if I didn’t care what they thought of me when I was actively trying to get myself possessed by demons, I don’t care what they think about my lifestyle choices now.”

"Just what is a reverse exorcism anyway?"

"Well it starts with a circle, a ceremonial banjo, and an infant…"

"Never mind!"

Time did as it always did, and soon the month was over. The song was complete, and Wiggle had made an appointment with a recording studio uptown to record it. As her last day rolled around, Cromdo found himself nervous. Sure, she said she loved him, but fame was a selfish mistress with a jealous streak… could they withstand it?

"I can tell something's bothering you," she said as they waited for her cab outside his bar with her suitcase. She stood in her hat and coat, same as she had when she moved in. Conspicuously, she had not called for a moving van that day.

"You're not gonna forget about me, are you?" He asked.

"Darling, I love you, it's not like I'm going to be having orgies in Grump Vegas anymore."

"Anymore?"

She bent down and kissed the crown of his head, and he gave a rumble, watching as her ride approached from up the street. "Promise you won't forget about me?"

"With all your stuff upstairs? Doubt it."

Wiggle laughed a little as the taxi pulled up, and she hoisted her suitcase up into it. Before she could slip into the seat, he grabbed her arm and flung her into a kiss, mouth tight and hungry against hers for just a moment before they parted, and she smiled like a goofball.

"See you, darling, look for me on the radio," she said, and with a wink she climbed into the cab and drove off uptown, leaving Cromdo alone once again. The memories of the month prior still burned hot in his mind and in his heart, but with a sigh, he turned back to return to his bar. Business was business, after all.

Days passed. The weather was getting hotter, the bar was packed every night, and Cromdo still had yet to hear from Wiggle. He tried not to worry, after all recording a song and getting it on the air couldn't have been a fast process- but still. He kept the radio onto the popular stations every night, hoping to hear something. Then, one night, as he was cleaning the bar idly, zoning in and out, he heard them talking about her. He flung himself over the bar to turn up the station, knocking over a regular in the process.

"FACE! WHAT THE GRUMP?"

"SHUT UP!" Cromdo hissed. It was a live show.

"-And this new song of yours just came out, it's available for streaming online, and critics are saying you've turned away from banjo pop to embrace a sort of banjo alternative- but we haven't heard it on the radio until now, Wiggle why is that?"

"Well darling-" came Wiggle's unmistakable cadence. "It's kind of a personal number. I took a month off to write it and had sort of a… I guess you could call it a spiritual awakening."

"You've had countless 'spiritual awakenings' since producing _Do The Wiggle,_ what made this one bear fruit?"

"Why don't I just play it for you, how about that?" She replied, the faint strumming of a banjo following. "Actually, before I do, I'd like to make a quick dedication."

"Is it to the mysterious Gramble?"

Wiggle laughed, "no, no… this one goes out to a certain red-furred grumpus who… changed my life."

Cromdo ended up running up to the stage at mach speed and yanking the plug of the karaoke machine out of the wall, to the chagrin of the grumps singing on it. "Everybody SHUT UP!" he hollered. "WIGGLE WIGGLEBOTTOM'S NEW SONG IS OUT!"

He turned the radio up as loud as it could muster as she belted out the first few lines, and basically forced his patrons to listen to it. Reactions were rather mixed. Some grumps seemed annoyed at Cromdo's insistence, others curious and impressed, and some even vaguely emotionally moved. It was to be expected, not everyone was going to like it, but most of the bar seemed appreciative of the ditty, and even applauded a little, when it was over.

"Fabulous," said the DJ when it was over. "That was _A Chance To Rebuild_ , the new release by Wiggle Wigglebottom, expect to hear it more often on this station, listeners, if not wherever music is sold."

"That's my girl."

The song went gold almost immediately, and Cromdo did what he did best, besides sing- he profited off of it. He put it on the karaoke box, where it became a big hit with grumps on date nights, but it only ended up spurring on questions: where was Wiggle? Would she be back?

"Hey, we had an arrangement, it ran out. She'll be back when she's back," was all he said on the matter, but even then, he hoped he was off the mark. He didn't want her back 'when she's back', he wanted her back now. So he kept the bar running alone, and kept track of her online. He even learned how to use Grumpter, to keep an eye on the news as it happened, bit by bit.

There was plenty of speculation on who the mysterious red-furres grumpus was. Some speculated family, others a mysterious paramor not unlike Gramble. Cromdo found it all highly entertaining, but at the same time kind of disappointed. He wanted grumps to know it was him. When he received the invitation in the mail, he couldn't drive to Grumpadelphia fast enough. A concert, a backstage pass, and a dressing room key.

He'd never seen her in concert before, and he could have kicked himself. Why had he waited so long? Up on stage with five other artists she outshone them all, even performing a duet version of _A Chance To Rebuild_ with some other famous grump the audience seemed to go wild for, but Cromdo couldn’t care less. He ended up stepping out during the tail end of the last set, but only to return after the show with a cheesy bouquet. Daffodils and forget-me-nots. Not the most expensive bouquet in the world, but it was the thought that counted, and he had many thoughts. He inhaled deeply, and after going backstage with his pass slipped the key into Wiggle’s dressing room door, and opened it up. There she was, wreathed on all sides by flowers from other admirers, using a pad to remove her mascara before she caught sight of him in the mirror, and turned around. She looked like she’d been crying, but was smiling like the sun. Clearly a side effect of the make up remover.

“Cromdo!”

“Hey toots.”

Wiggle laughed, and he stepped inside to hold the flowers out to her. “Got these for ya,” he said, “though it kind of looks like you have no shortage of ‘em.” 

She took them graciously, and buried her face into them, nuzzling the bouquet as if she had never seen flowers before in her life. “They’re lovely, darling, thank you.” 

“It was a good show,” he said, smiling a little bashfully. It had been a while. He could feel his heart swell, especially when she wrapped her arms around him and yanked him up clear off his feat. “Whoa whoa whoa, don’t drop me!”

“Sorry, darling, it’s just- i’ve missed you something awful.” She sat down, and he ended up landing in her lap, his face at level with her chest, which had been fluffed up a bit to create the illusion of a curvier Wiggle. Not that he was complaining. “I’m glad you liked the show. The song’s really taken off. How are things at the bar?”

“Oh you know, same as always. All my customers wanna know where you are,” he said, looking up at her with his face still in her chest fluff. She herself pushed her face against the crown of his head admirably. “We miss you. I miss you.”

“I know,” she said, “I miss you, too. My manager says _A Chance To Rebuild_ might go platinum by the end of the year. Not as fast as _Do The Wiggle_ but it’s a completely different genre, i’m not surprised… oh! And guess what? I was asked to go on a tour! Not by myself, with a bunch of other artists. We’d be going across the country.”

“Oh…” he said in response. “So then I'd go even longer without seeing you.”

“Well, I haven’t said yes, yet.”

“No, no,” he said, shaking his head, “you wanted to make a song with meaning and you did. Now you gotta show it off. I’ll survive. I learned how to make use of the social medias recently; I’ve been following your escapades- maybe I'll actually make something so I can tell off the critics. Put myself online.”

“You’d weather the mortifying ordeal of being known just for me?”

“Who says it’s mortifying? I like when people know who I am.”

Wiggle pressed her lips to his, claws flicked out to run through his fur and hair, and he let himself be so long in the moment of kissing her back he only somewhat noticed the camera flash beside him. “O-M-G, I KNEW IT!”

“Mrph?” he mumbled, with Wiggle’s mouth still on his until he saw who it was. “Beffica!”

Beffica was looking down at her camera with a wide grin. “This is gold, this is absolutely diamonds. Cromdo was the mysterious ‘red-furred’ grumpus the whole time? Like, seriously?” Meanwhile, Cromdo was rubbing his forehead with a long, gruff sigh. He’d left the door open, like a squeeb. Dammit. “I can’t wait to put this on Grumpter.”

“Beffica!” Wiggle cried, “that’s private!”

“Oh, come off it, Wiggle, you sacrificed the right to privacy years ago,” said the purple grumpus, and Wiggle couldn’t even deny it. “I could be persuaded to not post the pic, for a little tiny price.”

“...You know what, Winklesnoot? Post the picture,” said Cromdo, hoping he was using the correct internet lingo. “See if I care.”

“Wha? REALLY?” Even Wiggle looked at Cromdo funny. He just shrugged.

“Go for it, kid.”

Beffica squealed with delight. “I can taste another thousand followers on the horizon! Thank you!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Cromdo said, eyes closed and enraptured within Wiggle’s embrace as she laughed at Beffica, and didn’t even care when the camera snapped again, and she struck a pose for a couple of them with Cromdo in her lap.

“Say cheese, darling!”

Beffica did get those one thousand new followers, seeing as she was the only one who posted the exposé documenting Wiggle Wigglebottom’s enigmatic new lover, complete with a detailed bio. His name was Cromdo Face, he was fifty-four years old, and he worked in a karaoke bar in New Grump City, with the exact address. Perhaps it was a breach of Cromdo’s privacy, but he had given her explicit permission to do so. The popularity of the bar exploded, almost every grump who came in asking about what it was like to be with Wiggle (and the occasional asshole who asked what she was like in bed, who he kicked out. He was considering hiring a bouncer).

“Oh you know, she’s a goddess,” he would say, and it would all end up on Grumpter within hours. “Now are you gonna buy a song or get out?”

The only time it came to a head was when Wiggle made an appearance at the bar itself, all by herself. She was flanked with paparazzi, and when she tied her boa around Cromdo’s neck behind the bar and gave him a kiss, she wanted the entire world to see it. 

This is it, Cromdo thought, with his mouth on hers and his heart giving him palpitations, this is how I die. Worth it.

The only real challenge throughout the entire debacle was getting into Snorpy and Chandlo’s wedding without alerting those invasive grumps who made a living doing this stuff. For one thing, Chandlo found the entire notion of his wedding being invaded distasteful, and Snorpy was a hairs away from shooting off a modified version of the trip wire across the exit. With electricity.

“They followed us, it’s not our fault,” Cromdo argued, “we even left two hours earlier and took a back road!”

“That’s the media for you, always on their toes,” Wiggle sighed.

In spite of this development, however, it was a nice time overall. Their vows were beautiful, and Floofty even managed to not spill any embarrassing information about Snorpy at the reception throughout their Best Grump speech at the reception. There was only one problem.

“A dry reception, can you believe that?” Cromdo had said to Wiggle as they arrived back at the bar. By sending off two taxis at the same time, they had imagined to elude the paparazzi (who Snorpy was now utterly convinced were Grumpinati members trying to foil his nuptials, which left him suspicious of Wiggle the entire time, as well). “You let him get a little drunk at a bar one day in front of his fiancé and suddenly no liquor allowed for anybody. I should have brought a flask, it would have made Floofty’s speech a little more bearable.”

“It was a bit long, wasn’t it?” Wiggle said as she collapsed onto a stool, leaning against the bar top.

“Only they could take a speech about their brother at _their brother’s_ wedding and turn it into a dissertation about the sociopolitical whatever-the-grump they said about marriage as an institution.” Cromdo ran a paw over his face, and poured himself a night cap. They had closed the bar that night, specifically so they could attend the wedding. They had it all to themselves. He slid the glass over to Wiggle, who accepted it graciously.

“Thank you darling,” Wiggle said, and drank half of it in one gulp. “But did you have fun?”

“...Yeah, I guess I did, all things considered.”

Wiggle was looking around the bar, noticing how some of the decor was missing, or changed, and some of the furniture had received a makeover since Cromdo came into so much more money. It looked less like a dive day by day. “I miss this place.”

“The patrons miss you, too.”

“That so?”

“And I miss you, too.”

He undid his tie, and tossed it onto the bar top, leaning over it to bump her affectionately. “Also I can’t do any of those fancy moves you do. Catchin’ a shaker behind my back, not flexible enough…”

“Darling, I think you’re plenty flexible, where it counts~” Wiggle replied with a sly wink. Cromdo felt his fur standing on end, and reached up to comb it down.

“The point is the youngins are disappointed the cool bartender isn’t around anymore,” he explained, “at least the drinks you showed me are popular.”

Wiggle swirled the glass of amber liquid, lost in thought for a moment. “Think anyone would mind if I… came back now and again? Worked the counter, did some songs?”

“I know I wouldn’t,” he replied. “Your publicist might have a coronary, though.”

“True… isn’t that all the more reason to do it?”

“Touché.”

“And here I thought you didn’t speak french,” Wiggle teased, reaching up to rustle his fur gently. “By the way, darling, you’ve got to get back to me on the decor for the upstairs.”

“Upstairs?”

“The second bar, or karaoke room, or whatever you wanted to do with the upstairs. I haven’t forgotten about it,” she replied, and rested her paw on her chin with an anticipatory smile. “So what were you thinking? Maybe knock some of the floor out and make it into a loft? Don’t leave me in suspense.”

“A better apartment.”

“Say what, darling?”

“You gotta have someplace to go between tours, and my place is a shithole. We gotta get you some heat up there, some insulation… maybe a bigger bed.”

“Why don’t I just fix up your place for you?”

“You know me, Wiggle. I don’t do charity.”

Her bemused expression spread into a bright grin, and she reached out to clutch his paw tightly. A life line. Cromdo lifted it up and brought it to his lips, before raising his brow at her a bit more than vaguely flirtatiously. “You wanna head up there now…? Get comfortable? Maybe throw a little heat ourselves?”

“ _Darling_ ~” Wiggle said, clasping a paw to her cheek, “I thought you had a strict policy? No mixing business with pleasure?”

“Business _is_ my pleasure,” he purred, and Wiggle gave an elaborate swoon before adjusting her dress and beginning to hang up the boa on a nearby coat hook. “No no, leave it on.”

Even in the face of insurmountable ecstasy, life had to continue on. Wiggle had a nine o’clock appointment for a studio to work on a remix of the song. A psychedelic funk remix. Cromdo still had no idea what that meant.

“You know I think at this rate i’m good,” he said when she offered to explain it, sitting up in the bed, and wearing her glasses and boa as a pair of trophies. She did her hair in a little pocket mirror, before glancing back at him cheekily.

“Keep those,” she said, gesturing to him. “They look good on you.”

“Don’t get offended if I don’t wear them to work,” Cromdo replied, before pressing his face into the boa to inhale deeply. It smelled like Wiggle- fancy perfume and scotch.

“I would never~” she purred, before rising, and pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“You’ll be back for them tonight, right?”

“Tonight, darling.”

“Tonight,” he repeated, nodding faintly. He hated to see her go, but he loved to watch her leave, and when he heard the car departing from the premises he thrust himself back into the bed and stretched out, putting himself back to sleep almost instantly. He had a treat, waiting for him when he closed his eyes, wrapped up in Wiggle’s boa and bed like that. A dream. Sure, he was back on Snaktooth, and the snax were roaming, but he was suitably occupied. He was cooped up in her grasp, and she was guiding his claws over the strings of her banjo, teaching him. It seemed she never ran out of things to teach him. Cromdo relished it, watching the waves lick the sand, his back snug against her chest…

In the way of dreams, it was impossible to tell how long they were like that, but Cromdo woke with a supreme sense of satisfaction hours later, and lifted himself out of bed to crack his back. Grumping christ, he really did need that chiropractor. 

That could wait, though. As he stood up and tossed the boa and glasses aside he headed downstairs, fixing up his hair and smoothing down his fur. He had a job to do. He had a business to run.

He had a fine grumpus to meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end.
> 
> Stay turned for the companion story, about what some other grumps were up to.


End file.
